


Attachment

by Judgement



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Reader-Insert, Romance, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 38,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judgement/pseuds/Judgement
Summary: The strongest servants in Chaldea all had one thing in common: they were hopelessly and irrecoverably attached to you. Whether you were their master or not.
Relationships: Arjuna Alter | Berserker/Reader, Galahad Alter | Saber/Reader, Gilgamesh | Archer/Reader
Comments: 123
Kudos: 433





	1. Bedtime [Gilgamesh]

You stared down at the tablet in your hands and squinted against its light. _Gods,_ you were so tired. How many times did you reread this stupid sentence? Was it even in English? You couldn’t tell anymore, it made no sense no matter how many times you read it. You rubbed at your eyes and sighed. Missing the hand that snaked over your shoulder and plucked the tablet from your hand.

“Hey—! Oh. King. It’s you.” 

You let him take the tablet without fuss, then. He eyed the screen before his gaze shifted to you.

“Your lack of enthusiasm for your King is displeasing.” He frowned and noted the dark circles beneath your eyes.

“Sorry, I’m just so tired.” You sighed again.

“That is why I am here, mongrel.” He turned the screen off and watched you.

“And that’s why you’re here.” You affirmed without thinking. 

He waited, watched as you squinted and processed his words. If it wasn’t concerning how tired you were, he would have found it more amusing than he did. Watching as your expression shifted as you finally understood what he said.

“Wait, what? Why?”

It was his turn to sigh and he did it as if you were making him spell out the obvious. 

“Would you remember to take care of yourself if your King did not?” 

He lifted your tablet over his shoulder and you despaired as it disappeared into his Gate of Babylon. There went the report you were trying and failing to finish up.

“What are you talking about? And please don’t eat my tablet.” You were ready to whine.

“Fool. It was not eaten,” you knew that but wisely kept your mouth shut, “and it is past when you should be asleep, mongrel.” He crossed his arms.

“… What?” 

What was he even talking about? Humanity incinerated, it had spared nobody but those in Chaldea. And that only left a handful of people. 

“Gil, I’m not five. Humanity literally doesn’t even exist right now. Time doesn’t exist. We made it up, bedtimes aren’t real. Now give me back my tablet.”

You turned around in your spot on the couch and hefted yourself up to cling to the King’s shoulders. Helplessly, you waved your hand over his shoulder where the Gate disappeared with your tablet.

His eye twitched, but he used the opportunity presented and wrapped his arms around your waist. You squeaked in surprise when he hefted you up and onto his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Indignant at the treatment, you smacked at his back once he started walking down the hall.

“Put me down, Gil!”

“You will sleep as all mongrels need sleep. You should be thankful your King is considerate of this.” 

“Gil, I’m warning you.”

He scoffed, “There is nothing you could do to—”

You smacked his ass with both of your hands, hard. He froze mid-step. 

“Now let me down—”

Before you knew what was happening, a Gate of Babylon opened and he hefted you over his shoulder the rest of the way; into the Gate. You dropped in and your scream cut off when the gate shut behind you. You landed on something soft and sat up and blindly felt around in the dark, but it felt like pillows upon more pillows. So you sat there, in the dark, on what felt like a mountain of pillows; unsure of how you felt. You’d stuck your hand in one of the Gates out of curiosity in the past. But he’d never outright dumped you in one and closed it. _Huh_.

Before you thought on it too much more, the Gate reopened below you and you squeaked out a surprised noise. You fell through and landed on his bed. You glanced up at him, a little disorientated. The Gate was quick travel but your stomach did flips. Inter-dimensional travel felt like a turbulent take off without the turbulence and all the anxiety. 

“Really?” Was all you managed.

He huffed, glaring down his nose at you before he looked away. Taking off his shoes and hat before the gauntlet on his arm was next.

“Be thankful you landed on a cushion and not on a trap. Tempted as I was.” He crawled onto the bed and laid on his side, extending a hand to you. “Come.”

You eyed his outstretched hand. “Why am I in your room? My room is on the other side.” Closer to where you had been before he up and stole your tablet and then kidnapped you.

The King narrowed his eyes, displeased you weren’t taking his hand.

“I do not trust you to sleep if left alone. Now come here, fool, my patience for your cranky insolence grows thin.”

You frowned. You weren’t cranky! If he would stop taking and demanding, maybe he wouldn’t be getting lip! Your hand hovered over his and before you could protest, he’s snatched your wrist and pulled you close. His arm is around your waist, tucking you against him. You wiggled, frustrated, but his grip on your waist only tightened until you gave up and settled.

Stupid servant strength, stupid pompous Kings thinking they could do whatever they wanted. Fine! You’d just stubbornly lay here, against him, where it was nice and warm. You wouldn’t sleep though, just lay still until he gave up!

You felt his hand lift your shirt up, his hand slipping beneath. You made a noise of protest.

“Silence.” His voice was quiet. 

You sealed your lips and puffed out a sigh, shutting your eyes. His fingers brushed circles on your hip, trailing to your back and spine. Feather light touches that you focused on, all other thoughts scattered to the wind.

Gilgamesh opened his eyes and glanced down at you, noting the way you were fast asleep in his arms. Such a needy little thing, but he smiled and continued to rub circles against your skin, closing his eyes again. You were _his_ needy little thing.


	2. Nightmare [Merlin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There wasn’t a place his garden couldn’t reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the kudos and comments. The feedback is wonderful since I'm always worried about whether I'm portraying their character well enough.

**_“No matter where or when, my garden will come to your rescue.”_ **

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest. Frozen in fear as the spriggan loomed over you. So much bigger and angrier than you remembered, but the terror kept you rooted. You stared down at your feet, willed them to move. You flinched, head tilting as it followed the sword when the creature raised its arm. It may as well have been a stone column, it would crush you before it cut. It roared and you felt the tears spill from your eyes, hands splayed over your head as it brought its arm down. Intent to crush and end your pitiful existence. 

“G-Garden of Avalon!” 

You prayed for a miracle and braced for the worst.

“Oh~ My, my master. Your most loyal servant is here to chase away even the worst of your nightmares~,” 

Warmth embraced you in the form of strong arms that pulled you close. Into the chest of the grand caster you called for. You peeked up and hesitantly lowered your arms. He gifted you with his easy-going smile, and the sword of the spriggan lay frozen above the two of you. 

The surrounding dark gradually faded with the spread of flowers that grew from beneath the caster’s feet. Faster and faster until the flowers consumed everything as far as the eye could see. All at once, the pink flowers bloomed, uncurled their petals and chased the nightmare away. The dark, thunderous sky broke apart to reveal the blue sky and the spriggan’s form turned to oak. Branches that lifted toward the sun and provided shade for the two of you. The lowest hanging branch made from the sword bloomed with white flowers. The petals they grew danced, carried off into the the gentle breeze.

“You came?” You looked at the flower magus in disbelief.

“Such little faith! You wound me, master~”

He tossed his head back, pressed the back of his hand to his forehead with dramatic flare as he joked. When you laughed, he couldn’t help but smile. Cracked open one eye to look down at you and admire the joy he could bring you.

“I just didn’t think you would..” 

He dropped his hand away from his head, wrapping it back around you. You weren’t aware it was a dream, yet. If he told you, you would likely wake up and he wanted to keep you in his arms just a little longer.

“Of course I’d come! I’m your most loyal servant after all~!”

You laughed again, a sound that was music to his ears. If he had a tail, you were positive it would wag with enough force his entire body would shake. Especially when he pressed his face to the side of yours. 

“You’re not even my servant, Merlin.” But you continued to giggle, content with the affection.

“And who’s fault is that!” He stood straight and pouted at you. “Ritsuka even said he will give you my contract, but you won’t take it!” 

Merlin whined, wrapping his arms around your neck and clung to you. His face smushed to the side of yours once more. It just made you giggle, the grand caster was an enigma to you, but you loved it nonetheless.

“If I take one, then I have to take them all, it’s only fair.”

And you could picture the King’s indignant expression when he found out you had taken Merlin’s contract but not his. You adored the grand caster, but you knew he couldn’t keep a secret and the King would be the first he’d brag to. You also wanted to avoid hurting Ritsuka’s feelings. It was one thing for minor servants to prefer one over the other. But to take one of his strongest and then for more to ask? You knew the King would, both his caster and his archer self. It felt.. disrespectful to you, so you refrained. Content with the two servants who you had contracted with. 

“Besides!” You started and Merlin reluctantly pulled back to look at you, but kept the pout firmly in place. “You’re my most loyal servant, aren’t you? We don’t need a contract to prove that.”

He eyed you momentarily, then sighed.

“You’re right. As always, my master.” 

Then his smile turned downright devious and he swooped down, his lips an inch away from yours. 

“Next time you call me we'll have some fun~” He cooed suggestively.

His hands dropped to your waist and squeezed playfully. You snorted and rolled your eyes, surprising him when you pressed your hands to the sides of his face. He stared, wide eyed when your lips pressed to his forehead. 

“Thank you, Merlin.” 

You left him dumbfounded with the gentle affection as the garden he shared melted away. Returning you to the present as you sighed and rubbed at your eyes. Sleep still clung tightly to you but a hand brushed along your cheek. Prompting you to open your eyes and gaze up at the flower magus who greeted you. His elbow rested on his knee as he propped his head up in his hand. Your head lay in his lap and his free hand twirled a flower around. He brushed it against your nose before he tucked the stem behind your ear.

“Sleep well, master?” 

“I did. And I had the most wonderful dream, too.” 

You smiled up at him and he blinked in surprise before his expression softened and he smiled, too.

“Is that so?” 


	3. Meltdown [Solomon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just wanted to make sure you were safe and happy. And while you were safe here in his hands—within Ars Paulina—you weren’t happy, and that wasn’t good enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up much longer than I expected hsdjasda. I just really, really love Solomon.

Solomon would never admit it out loud, but he might’ve placed a teensy tiny enchantment on you. Convinced it was for your best interest and it wasn’t like it left a trace or harmed you. Only those who excelled in magic would even notice it was there. His time as Romani allowed him to experience human emotion unhindered. Something he otherwise wouldn’t have gotten to do. But for all the insight his human side gave him, it made him glaringly oblivious to a lot of things, too. 

Like you, for example. He vividly remembered your steadfast strength when he was human. The way you pushed yourself and refused to back down. Like the heavier the weight on your shoulders, the stronger you became. Unbent, unbothered by all of it, you handled it with such determined ferocity. It was one of many aspects that enamored him about you when he was human. But as a servant? It disappointed him how he missed the distressed signs on you, hidden behind that ferocity he still loved. Shamed him, even. He’d played the role of doctor but couldn’t even notice the subtle signs you displayed.

The way you bit the inside of your cheek when you got frustrated, hard enough you drew blood. Hard enough that you had scar tissue on the inside of your cheek from how many times you’ve done that. Or the subtle and sharp inhale when something terrible would shock you. The shine in your eyes dulled and he could see you withdraw into yourself. Your strength wasn’t a lie by any means, but it was a strength born of necessity. So the admiration for the way you grew more resolved with the increasing weight on your shoulders turned to horror. How much of yourself had you locked away tight, to see things through to the end? How many parts of yourself did you kill off just to keep going? 

He realized on the bloody battlefield one day as he watched out for you. Knowing you wouldn’t ask for help when you needed it. The reason you kept a contract with the berserker and avenger only was because they wouldn’t stop to question you. They wouldn’t press you if you bottled your emotions up. It even felt like the avenger seemed to feed off of the negativity, from his point of view.

The grand caster decided, knowing all that, it justified the teensy tiny spell. If you and your servants were unwilling to look after your emotional state, then it just fell to him, right? But, he realized belatedly, that while the spell worked, what he sensed and you felt were very different. Because of who he was and his nature as a servant by the time he felt how stressed you were. You were halfway down the rabbit hole.

So when the surge of panic hit his chest out of the blue one day, it took his breath away. He gasped and struggled to control the way his heart hammered and accidentally startled Ritsuka. He tried to wave it off, but all thoughts on what he should’ve been doing shifted direction to what you were doing. As far as he was aware, it was your week off and nobody expected anything of you. You should've been safe in Chaldea, doing whatever you pleased to pass the time. Instead, the panic continued to grow in his chest. A fear so strong that it took root in his lungs and made it difficult to breathe. It was a fear he only experienced so vividly when he was Romani.

The moment they were back in Chaldea, he disappeared from Ritsuka’s side and materialized next to yours. He expected to find you in the medical wing, or kidnapped, or _something_. Instead, he materialized next to you as you stood in the hallway. The few servants who were standing around in front of you all jumped, startled by his sudden appearance. But your eyes stayed glued to the tablet in hand. The connection through the enchantment made him feel like he was having a heart attack, but you stood there as casual as ever.

He eyed the servants critically. Did they bother you? No, it didn’t matter if they did. He gently placed a hand on your shoulder and you stopped what you were doing and looked up at him.

“Oh, Solomon. You’re back early.” You smiled and he stared down at you, brows pinched in concern.

You looked fine. So what was the issue? The panic he felt developed into agitation and impatience. The smallest thing grated on his nerves while he was out on the field. He almost wanted to use Ars Almadel back there just so he could finish up everything they needed and rush back to you. 

“I’m borrowing her for a moment.” He said and smiled thinly at the servants.

Before you or anyone else could protest, he blinked the two of you away. When you appeared elsewhere, your tablet was missing from your hands. You glanced around, confused, before your eyes fell on the concerned look of Solomon. 

“Why are we in Ars Paulina? Did something happen?” 

Why in the world had he taken you here? His expression of concern on top of things should have worried you, but the hole in your chest made you numb. He could tell you here and now that humanity incinerated. That he only saved you and you still weren’t sure if it would be enough to move the weight in your chest to get you to feel. 

Solomon stepped forward and brought his hands up to cradle your face. He brushed his thumbs against your cheek and tried to find the words. How did he explain how he felt? How he felt _you_ were feeling? Did he reveal his little enchantment? Would you demand him to get rid of it? He didn’t want to do either. He was a coward, but he was a coward for your sake. He just wanted to make sure you were safe and happy. And while you were safe here in his hands—within Ars Paulina—you weren’t happy, and that wasn’t good enough for him.

“You’re upset,” he started and frowned.

“I think that’s my line.” You laughed a little, but it was hollow. 

He stared down at you and struggled to find the words. You looked at him and even with this eating away in his chest, in _yours_ , he couldn’t help but admire how pretty you were. How cute you looked with his hands cradled against your cheeks. It made him want to kiss you, but that would make him feel better. He wasn’t so sure about you and this was about you; he lived and breathed for _you_.

“Solomon?” You questioned him. 

He sighed, closed his eyes and leaned down to press his forehead to yours. He was just going to press it and hope you didn’t get mad at him.

“I know you’re upset,” he tried again.

You bit the inside of your cheek. He knew it. He’d know even if he hadn’t felt the subtle way your jaw clenched in his hands. He opened his eyes and brushed his thumb across the edge of your lips. 

“Please don’t bite your cheek. You can talk, you’re safe. I promise to keep you safe.” He’d do anything you asked him to without judgement.

Solomon watched the way your eyes darted to him and then away. Felt the ache in his chest double and it’s almost enough to make him breathless. To sucker punch his gut and knock the life out of him. He hadn’t changed the enchantment, either. So if he was feeling it this bad, diluted and dulled as it was, how did you stand it?

“I..” You trailed off and glanced away from him, fighting the urge to bite your cheek and draw blood. “I don’t.. really know what to say?”

“Anything.” He’d get on his knees and beg you to talk about anything and everything, if you wanted him to.

“No, I mean, uh,” you chuckled and made it sound nervous—to play the part. But he knew you didn’t feel nervous. You put emotion into things you knew the situation called for, even if you didn’t feel that way. It was as impressive to know as it was concerning that you were so good at faking these things.

“I don’t, really feel anything.. right now.” You glanced at him hesitantly, then down.

But his hands still held your face, cradled it like he was holding the world’s greatest and most delicate treasure. So you couldn’t exactly look down at your feet. Instead, you stared at the gold plate around the neck of his attire. 

“Nothing?” He blinked down at you.

“I-I mean, if we’re being honest, I’m probably due for my regularly scheduled breakdown.” You joked, but he wasn’t laughing, so you stuttered to continue. “Which is probably why but..”

Regularly scheduled? Gallows humor or not, it implied you broke down more frequently than he was aware of. A thought that distressed him even more. 

“Do you break down often?” He asked, quietly.

Your eyes snapped up to his, to see the remorse there. You floundered for words.

“I mean, it’s just a lot, you know? Ahah.. To keep going every day when you feel like you want to die.” You glanced away and tried to bite your lip, but his thumb pressed between them. Gently traced along your lower lip. 

“I’m..” he picked his words carefully, “not surprised. You and Ritsuka both have carried a lot.” He wanted you to talk his ear off, so he just needed to turn this into a conversation that naturally led you to vent.

“I don’t want to complain,” he wanted you to, “and Ritsuka has much more to deal with, since he has all those servants—”

“We’re not here to compare, you’ve struggled just as much, too. Haven’t you?” 

He gently steered the conversation. His golden eyes focused entirely on you, the center of his world. You were so tiny in his hands, and it made you seem more fragile than he knew you were.

“I mean, I guess. I—I’m just.. so tired of it all, you know?” You tried to look away in a knee jerk reaction as your throat tightened and your voice wavered, but his hands kept you facing him. His thumbs continued to rub soothing circles along your cheeks. Brushed against the healing cut on your lip from when you bit it open last week. He hummed quietly, encouraging you that he was listening. 

“I’m—” your voice wavered, and you inhaled sharply. He could see the emotion as it flickered in your eyes. Breaking down the precarious walls you had built to keep yourself safe. He wanted to tell you that wasn’t something you needed to do anymore, that he was here. He would keep you safe. 

“I’m tired.” Your voice broke and with it, his heart. The tears you had so vehemently denied spilled out and you sobbed. You wanted to cover your face, wipe at your eyes, but he wouldn’t let you do either. His thumbs brushed away the tears, but he wouldn’t let you hide yourself any more than you did.

“I know I’m supposed to be strong—I told myself I would take the weight so others didn’t have to. So Ritsuka doesn’t have to. But I’m so tired of feeling like someone has punched a hole in my chest.” You wailed, “Why do I have to keep fighting? Why do I have to save humanity? They didn’t thank us when it was over! They even used us saving humanity to justify stripping us of our magic and locking us up! Why do I have to keep saving people who do nothing but take and hurt me?! They tell me I’m not good enough! Then turn around and point me at the next thing they can’t fucking fix and tell _me_ to do it.”

You cried in his hands, hiccuped and sobbed out the weight nobody knew you carried. 

“I’m expendable, I know that. But can’t they at least pretend I’m not? That I did good, that I’m worth more than what the world has given me?” Because there was little the world gave you other than your rotten luck.

Solomon ached. Even though your emotions were dulled it still overwhelmed him through the connection. There would be hell for those at the Mage’s Association later, he promised that. He promised that he would have a chat with anyone who told you that you were expendable and they'd be lucky to leave with their magic, let alone their lives. But for now, he preoccupied himself with comforting you. Brushing away the tears and when you vented to your heart’s content. When you had nothing left to say but hiccups and quiet sobs, he pressed gentle kisses to your lips. Soothed you in between each with hushed whispers, smiling softly as you eagerly returned each kiss. Then he wrapped you up in his arms and sat on the throne and tucked you in his lap. 

“I’m sorry that you’re in pain, that you’re hurting.” He whispered between kisses.

Because saying sorry that it happened didn’t make it better. It didn’t invite you to continue if you needed to. Only ended the conversation because he knew you would shake your head and say it wasn’t his fault. Even if at the root of all the problems you faced, it was. 

Instead, he rubbed soothing circles on your arm, scalp, back. Wherever he touched he tried to comfort, drawing gentle circles against your skin. Until you had cried all you could until that ache through the connection faded and you were curled on his lap. Tucked against him tightly with your face in the crook of his neck. His hand threaded through your hair gently and continued to even after you fell asleep. 

Solomon watched the ruined pillars and broken mountains that floated within Ars Paulina. Content to stay there until you were ready to go back and only then. And until you were, this place was your sanctuary and he would stay here as long as you wanted.


	4. Scar [Arjuna]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you hate me, Arjuna?” _For killing you,_ you wanted to say, but the words refused to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not overly happy with this chapter but writer's block is a bitch.

_“The time has come, I will judge the evil that exists within you.”_

_Limbs like lead, it’d never been so difficult to lift your legs. Each step felt too loud, too slow, but maybe that’s because you knew that your destination was death. But that didn’t stop you, because if you died it meant that Ritsuka lived and so would the world. A small price to pay._

_“Mahāpralaya.”_

_Ritsuka screamed and the sound followed by the pain was what you took with you when death came to take you home._

A strangled gasp left you as your eyes fluttered open. Heart hammering in your chest, rattling your ribcage as it threatened to burst. The tears blurred your vision, slipping out the corners of your eyes when you blinked. For a moment you did nothing but lie still, staring up at the blue eyes that stared down at you, curiously.

“Master.” The berserker greeted you as he hovered just a few feet above you.

You closed your eyes and smiled, chuckling to yourself as you brushed the stray tears with one hand. The scar on your chest throbbed, phantom pain that death gifted you before you left it behind. The scar given to you by the former Indian God was the biggest one you had to date. From your right shoulder down to your left hip, it stood out in the same vibrant, angry red that all fresh scars did. Time wouldn’t touch or fade the color for some time as the tender flesh still healed. 

“Arjuna.” You returned. 

The berserker twitched his tail lazily as he lounged above you and studied you. After a moment he reached out, brushing his fingers against the scar on your exposed chest.

“Does it still hurt?” There’s no emotion in his tone.

“Yes.” 

You wouldn’t lie to him, he would know anyway between who he was and the bond between you. He probably felt lingering bits of it. But it surprised you to see him frown, his touch on the scar tissue becoming hesitant. 

“Not when you touch it.” You clarified. 

The frown didn’t leave. But the hesitancy in his touch subsided a bit, and he continued to trace it down across your collar. Down in-between your breasts before the rest disappeared beneath the blanket. The fabric of your pajama shirt had aggravated the healing wound when you finally removed the bandages. So you slept without it and never bothered with it after. Both of your servants had seen all there was to see, anyway, so you didn’t feel embarrassed. 

Arjuna floated down, his weight made the bed dip further as he laid across you. His head pressed to your collar. Careful in the way he laid his cheek against you so the horns on his head didn’t bother you. His tail snaked around your leg and his hands wrapped around your waist. Fingertips splayed against your back and brushed along your spine.

“Do you hate me, Arjuna?” _For killing you,_ you wanted to say, but the words refused to come. 

You stared up at the ceiling and your hands found their way into his hair. Lazily threading into the long white strands. 

“.. No.”

You wondered if he meant it or if he said it because he was your servant and felt compelled to. But you didn’t bring up your doubt, you didn’t think you could handle the truth if you tried to press.

“I am sorry for hurting you, master.”

He squeezed you just a bit and it made you smile as you closed your eyes. Feeling tired again and a few more hours of sleep couldn’t hurt. Especially if Arjuna wasn’t intending to let you get up, which he wasn’t. 

“It’s okay, you’re human after all and we all make mistakes.” 

He shifted, lifted his head a bit to look up at you. Surprised at your words. Human? Him? He had given up his humanity to become the God that the world needed to judge and eliminate evil. But you.. you could still see in him the human that he once was? He rested his chin on your collar and watched as you dozed off in his arms. 

He had failed in life to see how his actions caused the undoing of the planet he supposedly protected. But this time he wouldn’t make the same mistake, he would protect you. You wouldn’t need to face the evils of any world anymore. He would be your sword and shield, he would keep you from getting hurt and he would banish anything that threatened you. You were his world now and he would do anything this time to protect it.


	5. Beauty [Edmond]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Branches, belts, timelines have tried to stop you and you’ve walked away with nothing but wounds that would heal. Limbs that can still pick up a blade, _still fight._ ” And you still stood, ready to keep fighting while your opponents fell one by one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edmond is.. complicated to write, still. Ah well.

Resentment, bitter and shameful. He felt the emotions that warred within you long before the berserker sought him out. Unequipped and unable to understand how to ease the tsunami of negative emotions that pulled you under. He knew how quickly one could give into despair if they lingered on it too long. The Cavern King considered going to you, but the berserker surprised him by asking him before he decided.

“Master is.. she sees an evil in her reflection that I do not.” 

An evil that the former God claimed he couldn’t see? That piqued his interest. It wasn’t often that the berserker sought him out, given their opposing natures. Was it because they were closer? Being your only two servants meant that they could only rely on each other with you. Or was it because the berserker cared enough that he swallowed his pride to request help from him? Though he supposed that the only other people the berserker could ask would be the other Chaldean master’s servants. Something that the two of them silently and mutually agreed would never happen. The other servants here already tried to take all your time away from them. God forbid they think that the two couldn’t handle one master.

“Fu, very well.” 

The tension eased from Arjuna’s floating form and Edmond set aside the book he had been reading. Sinking into the shadows, he expanded in the ocean of darkness. The in-between here and there and followed the sliver of warmth to your shadow where he emerged behind you.

Tugging the discarded shirt from his shoulder, he tossed it aside with the rest of the clothes that lie scattered around your room. It was the scene of a horrific explosion against your wardrobe, every article of clothing you had was on the floor or tossed elsewhere. 

“While I am endeared to the hate and despair that fans the flame in you. Admittedly, I can’t say as much when it’s directed at yourself, master.”

He watched the way your shoulders stiffened. It had been a long time since he snuck up on you, given the connection you could feel when he approached. So you knew he was here, but.. what? He didn’t move from his spot a few feet behind you. Whatever it was, he respected you enough not to force you to face him until you were ready.

“I’m not in the mood, Edmond.” Your voice was barely a whisper and quivered with emotion. 

Not in the mood? That much was obvious. He moved away from you, picking up clothing as he went. Then dropped them across a chair before he sat himself on the loveseat. 

“And I am not playing games, master.” He crossed one leg over the other and reclined in the seat. His book reappeared in his hands and he picked up where he left off. 

You tilted your head to him, to look at him from your peripheral. It was enough that he could see the twitch against your lips, the way the corners tugged down in disgust. The berserker had said you saw an evil in yourself so he knew that expression wasn’t for him. 

“What is it about yourself that you can’t stand?” He hit the nail on the head when you flinched and yanked your head straight. 

He eyed you, the scars that littered your body. Bruises as black as the shadows he controlled and as big as his hand sat like patchwork against your outer arms and legs. A few smaller ones sat on the inner parts of your thighs. The jagged and largest of your scars decorated your body and sat on your sides, disappearing around to your front. Those he was most familiar with. He knew the signs of shoddy patchwork stitching you did by yourself or someone else who was just as unskilled. But you and the other Chaldean master hadn’t had a medic once you lost the grand caster. Regrettably you both ended up learning through trial and error what the most effective way to stitch a wound was. At least, until Ritsuka managed to summon a servant who had experience. But that had been almost a year later before he did, and by then wounds you both had healed, however poorly.

“I can’t,” you struggled with the words and he waited, “I can’t wear any of it.”

He glanced at the discarded articles scattered around the room, to the pile he picked up and to the shirt you dropped at your feet. You stood in your bra and underwear, the frilly lace of it was something he didn’t see on you too often. But he guessed that it was easier to deal with wrapping and binding your chest as you did while running around dealing with singularities. At least the servants here had taught you to wrap it properly, less you hurt yourself. They were good for some things.

“When was the last time you tried to?” With all the muscle you gained fighting for humanity, it would have surprised him if anything fit. Whether too big now or too small. 

“Does it matter?” The resentment touched your tone and you whirled around to face him.

He eyed your bloodshot eyes and the quiver of your lip, the residue stain of tears on your face. You’d cried and it only made you angrier. How ironic that people claimed crying would make someone feel better. It was not always the case, especially not with rage. Some things were only ever best expressed with violence, in his opinion. 

“Look! Look at all of this! I can’t—I can’t let anyone see these!” 

You gestured to the scars he had admired earlier and propped his head in his hand, elbow resting on the chair’s arm. 

“Because, what?” What people would think, what they would say?

“What will people think!?” You roared with frustration, another set of angry tears spilled and your hands clenched to hide the way they trembled.

“What do you think?” He asked, calmly closing his book and setting it aside. 

“It’s hideous, it’s—” your words caught in your throat and you floundered to get them out, past the tears of frustration you choked on.

“Is it?”

He stood and his clothes dematerialized save for his own underwear so he stood as exposed as you. Then he took you by the shoulders and had you face the mirror on the wall. Then he stood next to you and your gaze dropped to the floor. Guilt and shame immediately thundering its way through your core compared to his scars. Yet he gently reached over and grabbed your chin, making you look up and meet his gaze in the mirror. 

“What do you think when you see my scars? Is your first thought that they are hideous?”

Your jaw trembled in his gentle grip and you couldn’t get the words out, so you shook your head. Blinking the tears from your eyes as they dripped down your cheeks. He didn’t push you, but waited for your answer.

“I-I wonder what happened.”

“We are the product of the trials we live through. We become wiser for the experience we gained, and our bodies become stronger for the things we endured for that experience. Is your first thought what did I do? Or is it what happened, in essence: _what did life do to me_.” 

You weren’t sure if this was really making you feel any better. The rage had subsided a bit, but now you just wanted to curl up and cry. Allow yourself to be a ball of misery. Edmond sighed when he felt it, and he knelt down to grab the shirt you discarded.

“Up.” You shot him a look but did as you were told and lifted your arms up. 

He tugged the blouse down over your head, letting the dainty material rest on your shoulders. A mid-drift top that exposed the tail-ends of the several larger scars on your front. And the thin straps showed off the jagged cut from the berserkers Mahāpralaya. It dipped from your shoulder across your collar with the rest hidden below the shirt. His clothes materialized back on him and he stood behind you, wrapping his arms around your front. One hand splayed across your stomach and the other traced the scar on your shoulder. 

“You are the strength and beauty that several world’s have tried but couldn’t kill. The beacon of hope for humanity, its savior. You are the reason that Gods have failed and lost their lives. And you’ve walked away from it all.” 

His hand on your shoulder moved and grabbed yours, stretching your arm out with his so your hand rested in his palm. The small scars littered across your hands, the calluses, blisters and burns. 

“Branches, belts, timelines have tried to stop you and you’ve walked away with nothing but wounds that would heal. Limbs that can still pick up a blade, _still fight._ ” And you still stood, ready to keep fighting while your opponents fell one by one. And they didn’t just fall, their existence was erased beneath your might. Belts crumbled, timelines pruned.

“You are above Gods, you are human and these scars are the only thing left of those you’ve fought. They are keepsakes, mementos of what you have accomplished and survived. So that the next person who stands in your way will know that in order to take you, they need to be able to take on everything you have.”

You stopped wallowing in your pity and gazed at the scars left behind. Each scar, each belt, singularity, all of it. Whoever faced you would see the difficult fights and know that they needed to take on every one of them if they hoped to match you. 

“Humanity, humans, they are all imperfect and will never be anything but and as their savior you will be as close to perfection as they can get.” He turned you around, taking your hands in his. You tilted your head up at him, confused, but he just smiled. Tugging you forward and back a step before he waltzed you around your room. “You show them that as you are, the flaws you think you see, are okay. They don’t hinder you and they don’t stop you. But they'll make someone hesitate and think twice before making you their enemy. And there’s breathtaking beauty in the ferocity of your scars. In you.” He stopped and dipped you in his arms and you smiled.

“And I also don’t think there’s anyone who can take Mahāpralaya to the face and come back from it quite like you.” His tone was lighter and laughed.

There was a gentleness to his expression as he admired you. Pulling you back to your feet he smiled, a haughty and smug one that the Avenger always wore well.

“Besides, I wouldn’t accept a master that couldn’t compete in a contest of who has the most scars, anyway.” He looked satisfied and prideful with that statement, and it’s enough you snort on your laughter. A mischievous smile on your face as your hands clung to his, preventing his escape as you pulled him forward to try and knee his gut. But he dodged and laughed with you, freeing his hands and dancing away from you as you chased him. 


	6. Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was talking to Ritsuka—” they both frowned “—and we were discussing how it may be a good idea that I look into summoning another servant.”
> 
> _“No.”_
> 
> It’s an unanimous exclamation from both your servants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure what to think about regular Galahad. From what I've read, people either understand him or find he's a dick (I only just got to Camelot so I don't know when/where he comes in. Lostbelts somewhere?) But I love his concept and Galahad Alter is :chef's kiss:. So we're going to go with like, a mixture of both Galahad and his alter because I can and there's not a lot of lore on him yet. Whoop.

In the rare absence of the three casters who vied for your attention like an obsession, you had gathered your servants in the cafeteria. It was mostly empty, save one or two servants and a few staff members. Thankfully, it gave you enough privacy that you didn’t have to walk back to your bedroom. You sat on the bench of one table and had both your berserker and Avenger sitting on the opposite side. Though you hadn’t expected the berserker to actually sit, he had done as much when you told the Avenger to. It was oddly cute and comical. A perfect posture from the former God who sat with his full attention on you. And then there was your scowling Avenger who sat hunched with his cigarette unlit on his lips.

“I was talking to Ritsuka—” they both frowned “—and we were discussing how it may be a good idea that I look into summoning another servant.”

“ _No._ ” 

It’s an unanimous exclamation from both servants who now wore matching frowns. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so frustrating at how quickly they shot it down.

“What? Why! You didn’t even ask to let me explain!”

“I will protect you, master, is that not enough?” 

The former Indian God floated up and moved to your side. Taking care to stay at eye level with you as he lounged forward in the air on his stomach. You resisted the urge to sigh as the berserker awaited your response, patiently but displeased still all the same. You trusted Arjuna wholeheartedly. Honestly, given what Da Vinci relayed, he was strong enough to take on most servants alone. He was an army in and of itself, packaged into the berserker class, which only strengthened him. He was also loyal to you and it was to a fault. He never left your side if he could help it and refused to be left in Chaldea when you went on a mission. Not that anyone felt comfortable with him around and you absent. Try as you had, the berserker didn’t understand the concept of ‘taking a break’ and if you went, so did he. Your Avenger didn’t have qualms about accompanying you, but he enjoyed the occasional day off. You knew that for a fact.

“Arjuna, you don’t let me out of your sight, anyway.” The berserker seemed pleased with the response. Floating closer to wrap his arms around your shoulders and press his cheek to yours affectionately. Edmond didn’t look so convinced. 

“With Arjuna as the exception,” because he refused to leave you, “I know you could use the extra time off, Edmond.” 

You alternated servants, borrowing from Ritsuka whenever you wanted to give the Cavern King a break. He never asked for one and you were hard pressed to believe he ever would. The Count bristled and it proved your point. 

“I don’t need—”

“You may not need it, but you enjoy some time off, don't deny it.” You dismissed his argument and he scowled. “Besides, I’m sure you would all love it if we had one extra member on the team. It would mean that those three wouldn’t need to act as supporters.” 

Now _that_ got their attention. Your two servants begrudgingly and unwillingly dealt with the three casters enamored by you. They hated every moment, but whenever you requested support, the three leapt up like dogs begging for affection. Edmond often mocked the Wise King for looking more like the mongrel he claimed everyone to be. The ensuing fight took far longer than you’d like to rein in, but the Cavern King did it most days, anyway.

“… And if you end up summoning one of them, anyway?” 

Edmond eyed you and you glanced away. An action that had Arjuna burying his face into the crook of your neck instead. 

“You don’t even have a plan for if you do!” The Count looked fed up. 

“We deal with it! That’s the plan! Besides, if it’s one of them, it’s more than likely they won’t have any of the memories or feelings attached to me. They’ll be far more bearable.” You countered, and Edmond looked unimpressed. 

“No.” He held firm. 

Arjuna was no longer on his side or taking part in the discussion. The berserker made it clear he went with you and protected you, and the rest was on Edmond. Since he was the one that enjoyed time off. 

“We could use another who can hopefully make up for our delicate team balance. We work well together—don’t get me wrong—but the status of your classes are not something we can ignore forever. Bringing in another class could help even things out.” You tried to play into the advantages, at least.

“And if you summon another extra class or berserker? We’re back at square one.” There was that chance.

“But—”

 _“No.”_ Edmond cut you off.

You sighed and groaned, rubbing at your face at the Avenger’s stubbornness. You understood, really you did! But this wasn’t even a discussion, you were going to do it.

“It’s a good thing this isn’t a marriage proposal and that I don’t need your permission in the end.”

He scowled, “Then why ask for it!?” He was ready to disappear in the puddle of shadows and you knew it.

“Because it’d mean a lot if you guys agreed!” You snapped back.

It gave the Avenger pause as he studied your face. The frustration and tension in his shoulders eased away. You had always done your best to keep their interests at heart, and he knew it. Though he never asked for anything you gave him days off to rest, even if he didn’t need it. And you even brought him souvenirs and books or things you thought he’d enjoy from your adventure as you called it. While he lived and breathed for the thrill. For the vengeance and despair of it all, as was his nature, there were quiet moments he had enjoyed too. Quiet moments you were trying to protect on his behalf. He sighed.

“Fine. Given how those three were conveniently needed by Ritsuka today, I assume you planned to summon now?” He tucked the unlit cigarette away and stood. 

“Maybe.” You tried to act sheepish, but the Avenger rolled his eyes, unconvinced.

“Let’s be on with it then, master.” He swept out of the room and you scrambled to your feet. Your berserker lazily clung and allowed you to tug his floating form along with you. 

Da Vinci already prepared the FATE summoning system for you beforehand so when you entered the room, the circle pulsed to life. You instructed the berserker to stay beside Edmond while you dealt with the summoning. The berserker reluctantly let you go and lounged in the air as Edmond leaned up against the wall, arms crossed. While Arjuna’s expression was indiscernible and aloof, Edmond looked annoyed. 

_Please, give me someone they’ll get along with._ You silently prayed as you finished the rest of the configuration to the system. A bit of your blood on the dais and your mana surging through the circle when you stepped outside the ring. The system roared to life with a light bright enough to blind you, forcing you to shield your eyes from the light. The hum of the FATE system kicked steam into the air and the room pulsed with energy, the response of a servant to your summon.

When the light died down you squinted, lowering your arm to see the new addition to your team. Heart thrumming with nervous energy, you prayed it was someone who would get along. _Please._

“Servant. Saber—” you breathed a silent sigh of relief as the steam cleared. A saber ruled out the three that made your servants miserable. “—Galahad Alter. I’ve come in response to a master trying to keep the world safe. Though I can’t say I care to keep it safe. So it’s a good thing I’m here to keep you safe and not the world. Eh, master?”

An attractive-looking man stepped forward. Long silver hair that fell into half of his face, showcasing only one gold eye. His armor was vaguely familiar, mixed colors of black and indigo, and two swords sat on his left hip. When you met his eyes, he gave a lazy and haughty smile.

_Eh? Did he say Galahad?_


	7. Jealousy [Galahad]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m bonding with _my_ master, obviously. Oh? You look a little red, King, maybe you should see the head nurse.” Galahad commented casually. As if the grip on his head wasn’t enough to crush a normal man’s skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw [art of Galahad Alter](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/84231916) by [ゆん汰](https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/5328205) (I can't directly link but its a little over halfway down once you view all) and at first I thought the way the lighting reflected in his eyes were little crosses. So I started this halfway before I realized it was just that, the lighting. But now I'm gonna headcanon that Galahad alter has very faint crosses in his eyes similar to the Arbiters of _Death Parade_ (in appearance only, obviously). Because yanno, why not? ┐(￣ヮ￣)┌
> 
> For those who don't know, from my digging Galahad Alter's personality is roughly: sardonic/snarky/snide, nonplussed(unperturbed), haughty/arrogant and when it comes to his master: teasing. I'll be taking a few liberties since there isn't much lore on either versions of Galahad, though, and mixing what I do know of the two.

“Lean closer, let me see your eyes.” You pressed up and leaned halfway onto the table.

Galahad flicked those pretty gold eyes your way and smiled. He snapped the magazine shut and tossed it back onto the table with a flick of his wrist. An elbow on the table to rest his head in his hand as he leaned in, letting you get as close as you’d like. You brushed the bangs from his face and he blinked a few times when you did. But he let you tuck the hair away from his face. 

“Are you trying to reenact something I should know? I’ll be happy to play the part if you tell me what it is.” He had that same cocky, smug smile on his face.

“So you do have little crosses in your eyes.” You ignored his comment and he blinked a couple times, confused.

“What?”

“It’s subtle, honestly, you can’t tell unless you get really close.” You pressed your forehead to his as if to make your point. “But you have a lighter shade of gold to your eyes in the shape of a cross, with your pupil in the center.”

Galahad said nothing in response, simply stared at you with your forehead still pressed to his. He wouldn’t admit the proximity made his chest tight and that his voice might crack like a pubescent teen if he tried to talk. You made his heart race and he liked it. 

“Oi!” 

But he _hated_ the three casters that always sought you out like moths to a flame. It was no wonder you opted to summon him over taking one of their contracts. They never left you alone if they could help it, less so now that you summoned him. He watched as you sighed, the taste of strawberry on your breath fanned against his lips. 

The Wise King, as people called him, found himself struck stupid with you and Galahad _lived_ for getting under the King’s skin. So he smiled in that haughty and smug way you associated with the saber already. You were about to question him, but the King stormed his way over.

 _“Filthy mongrel,_ what do you think you’re doing?!”

Needlessly touching the King’s most valuable treasure was a death sentence. But Galahad didn’t care, he lifted a hand behind your head and tugged you forward. Closing the small gap that remained between the two of you. His lips slanted against yours and the Knight watched as your eyes widened. Noting with delight that you didn’t pull away. If anything, when his smile parted and gave way for his tongue to brush against your lips, silently asking, he could see your cheeks tint pink. Something he thought was a pretty color on you, and he would love to see it painted on your face more. Especially if he was the one who put it there—

The King’s hand landed painfully on his head—not that he’d ever show it hurt—and yanked him from you. The claws of his gauntlet scraping and digging against his scalp, sadly breaking the lovely kiss he started with you. 

He made it a point to lick his lips when the King took a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back so he was facing him. The scathing red glare was quite the sight, and the Knight noted that the other two casters were there. Solomon smiled, a gesture that lacked warmth, and Merlin was chuckling with a similar tight-lipped smile. One that told Galahad how annoyed he already was. And while the King of Magecraft looked the least threatening, the way his magic lashed out spoke otherwise.

It was funny. 

“I’m bonding with _my_ master, obviously. Oh? You look a little red, King, maybe you should see the head nurse.” Galahad commented casually. As if the grip on his head wasn’t enough to crush a normal man’s skull. 

You were so dumbstruck by the kiss that your brain lagged, failing to leave the station on time. The conductor in your head yelled to hurry the hell up, but you only blinked, the pink on your cheeks growing. Galahad thankfully wasn’t expecting you to be his savior. He deemed himself your shield-knight, being the double summon he was. Capable of utilizing the same shield that Mash did, he could summon his own at will. He took well to being your shield and preferred it over being on the offensive front-row slaughter. This situation was no different, facing the wrath of two kings and.. whatever Merlin wanted to claim he was. A pest. The glow of gold is enough to snap you from your stupor. The Gate of Babylon inched itself open behind Gilgamesh, who looked ready to murder. 

“Whoa, wait, hold up!” You reached out, grabbing onto the arm Gil was still clutching your servant with.

“Please don’t fight! Galahad don’t push their buttons—” you shot your servant a look who glanced your way and shrugged a shoulder, looking unabashed. “—and my King—” you urged the King to look at you but he wouldn’t, _“—Gil.”_

Finally, the scathing glare of Gilgamesh flicked away from your servant onto you. The heat of his glare died as he studied your face. After a moment that felt too long, the Gate behind him closed and he reluctantly released your servant’s head. 

“Very well. You would do well to train this mongrel better so he knows who is King is.”

You released Gilgamesh’s arm and breathed a silent sigh of relief. 

“I will—”

“Why would she do that? She doesn’t need more pets when she already has you three.” Galahad didn’t miss a beat.

You froze and watched the haughty smile on your servant and the twitch of Gilgamesh’s eye. Before you could even comprehend what happened next, Galahad’s arms were around your waist. Several swords impaled themselves in the seat he was just in. Shredding into it like pieces of tissue paper.

“Time to go, my lady.” He hummed, carefree. As if he hadn’t invoked the wrath of Gilgamesh he swept you up into his arms gently. The two of you went from being at the other end of the cafeteria to the entrance in a blink.

“I’ll be sure to stop by the medical bay and let the head nurse know of your sudden hypertension, oh Wise King.” Galahad called out before rounding the corner.

 _“Bastard!”_ Gil’s voice called after.

Ignoring the swords that launched and sank into the wall behind him, Galahad carried you easily yet swiftly down the hall. Leaving you flustered and confused while at a loss for words about what transpired over the last ten seconds. 

“Galahad!”

Your servant only smirked. Oh, how he loved the sound of his name leaving your lips.


	8. Clairvoyance [Gilgamesh]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilgamesh took a spot next to you and glanced down at the lotus flower in your hand. The pink petals swayed in the breeze before he turned his attention toward the setting sun. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for what you had to say, knowing there was always something on the tip of your tongue.
> 
> “What’s it like to die?”

Gilgamesh found you standing atop the main temple in Uruk. A place where you watched him die defending his beloved city and humanity. It was a bitter memory that still brought tears to your eyes, still made your throat tight. When everything was said and done. When humanity no longer needed you like it no longer needed the King would you be able to return to a normal life? You wondered if that was why Gilgamesh accepted it so easily. Could he see himself as anything else, doing anything else other than ruling Uruk and its people? Guiding humanity away from the Age of Gods?

You weren’t sure if you could return to a normal life. Returning to a normal life meant that you would say goodbye to your servants, the family they became. How would you accept that? They may be servants to anyone else but they were your family, they fought tooth and nail by your side. How could they be anything but? And how could you accept all of them disappearing one day? To have dozens of your family all disappear one day. It would be like all of them died at once. How did someone mourn losing everyone?

Gilgamesh took a spot next to you and glanced down at the lotus flower in your hand. The pink petals swayed in the breeze before he turned his attention toward the setting sun. Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for what you had to say, knowing there was always something on the tip of your tongue.

“What’s it like to die?”

It’s not what he expected, and his eyes widened in surprise as he glanced at you. You hadn’t looked up at him, though, too transfixed on the flower you held in both hands.

“What are you getting at?”

You looked up and into the distance and frustratingly enough not at him. But he didn't voice how that displeased him, too caught up in how dangerous your question was. How much it worried him.

“I’m just curious, I guess. In the stories about you they said you feared death so sought immortality.” You left out Enkidu, knowing it was a sore spot. “Which feels kind of ironic, I guess. You died—” you choked on the words and he noticed, “—but you became a servant. So in some ways you achieved a type of immortality, right? But now you experience death over and over again at the beck and call of some system. Whether it’s the grail or Chaldea. But what is it like?”

He observed you. How you clutched the flower in your hand, crushing it as all the petals were pulled from the center. And when you opened your hands again, the petals scattered in the breeze.

“Fool.” His hand dropped atop of your head, but you didn't move. “You need not fear it.”

You laughed, but it’s hollow and broken and felt like you grabbed his heart and squeezed it. Ripped it from his chest and tossed it aside while you were at it. Especially when you turned your head to look at him and the tears already stained your face.

“That’s just it. I’m not afraid of it, Gil.” 

You turned to face him fully and took a few steps back, tucking your hands behind you. The hem of your dress that he gave you fluttered in the breeze, brushing against your calves. You didn’t bother to wipe away the tears, they would just keep coming, anyway.

“I’m not afraid to die, I’m kind of hoping to. If I’m honest with you.”

“What—”

“Every singularity, every belt. We grew close to someone and then we had to say goodbye. Few of them ever remembered us if we met them again, and then things got harder. Fights got more difficult, and soon we weren’t just saying goodbye when we fixed the singularity. We were saying goodbye because we were _ordering them to their death_ so that we could continue.” 

Gilgamesh stood facing you, his hands at his sides, balled into fists as he watched you break. It was beautiful but bitter. He wanted to comfort you, but to do that he needed to hear you out. It was painful. 

“One day I was a normal person and the next I’m a military general that’s sentencing people. Telling them to march with an army in a different direction as a _distraction_. Sending them on a suicide mission! Servants or not—none of you remember!” You cried out, balling your hands into fists. 

“You don’t remember being ordered to your death, but I remember ordering it! I remember watching them march away, and later being told one by one that they had fallen. And those people are dead—they may come back physically in another belt or singularity or even here in Chaldea! But they aren’t the people I met on the field that worked with me and fought by my side. They are another person entirely because the person I fought with—I ordered to die fighting and they did!” 

You sobbed and cried loudly, curling in on yourself. Even if you saved everyone, even if you didn’t order them on a suicide mission—when the world didn’t need saving anymore, they would die again. You would never see them again. The ones who had been with you the longest, the ones you couldn’t see your life without, would all abruptly disappear. They would die just like the rest, and they would again leave you standing. You were always the last one left standing.

“I want to die, Gil. If everyone has to disappear one day on me, then I want to disappear, too.” You unfurled your fists and looked down at your hand. You woke from nightmares more often than you admitted to anyone. The smell of blood invaded your senses daily, even if there wasn’t any. And some days, like today, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of the warm and wet feeling of blood on your hands. 

You stepped back and Gil felt his insides turn to ice. Noting how close you were to the edge. He had so many things on the tip of his tongue, but you looked up at him, broken. 

“I want to die.”

He woke alone, in the command room of Chaldea, and gazed into the empty room. The vision left an ache in his chest, something that reminded him of when he lost Enkidu. A bitter, suffocating feeling that closed in around his chest. Crushed his heart and choked the life from his lungs. The King sighed, reminding himself it was just a feeling, and stood up. 

It was one of the few nights that the snowstorm around Chaldea had let up. Revealing the full moon and he found you there, in the long stretch of an empty hallway. Gazing up at the moon with Fou in your arms. And for a moment, that’s all he could do was stand there at the end and stare at you. He could see from there the weight that physically weighed on your shoulders. Fou was the first to notice him, but the creature didn’t make a sound when he walked over. Or when his walk broke into a run. Only wiggled from your grasp to sit at your feet and watch as the King collided into you. Ignoring the surprised noise from you, he wrapped you up into his arms and clung to you like a lifeline. 

“Gil?” Your voice was quiet, but it carried into the empty space.

What did he say to you? About the vision he witnessed, of you breaking however beautifully in front of him. How you’d rather throw yourself from the top of the temple than order another servant away. He clung to you tighter at the memory, pressing his face to your hair. He couldn’t lose you like he lost Enkidu.

“You will always have your King.” You had him, you would always have him.

He didn’t see the broken expression and said nothing when you clung to him, quietly. 

_You always have me._


	9. Rain [Galahad]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His arm snaked around your waist and pulled you in close as he lifted the shield above the both of you. It took only seconds after that when another crack of thunder boomed closer this time and the sky tore open. The rain came down in torrents, but the shield worked well as a makeshift umbrella. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be writing a Galahad/Alter separate fic if anyone is interested in that. I can post an announcement here or just keep an eye out.

The sound of thunder rolled in the distance before you felt the first drop of rain hit your nose. You were so far out in the middle of a field that had nothing but rolling green grass for miles. Even if the two of you ran, you wouldn’t outrun the oncoming downpour. And the trees that lie scattered about had only a few leaves on the branches which spread out. Not something you could hide beneath to avoid getting soaked. So even if the summer air and rain was warm, you’d find yourselves drenched and cold because of it in minutes. Potentially getting sick. Did servants get sick? You glanced toward Galahad, who stopped beside you. His gaze was toward the sky with one hand held out to feel the raindrops.

“Do servants get sick?” 

Galahad looked down at you and blinked. He was a tall, slender servant who stood with a full head and then some over you. The hand he held out materialized his armor once more followed by his shield. He wielded the large thing with more finesse than Mash. Though you supposed it was unfair to even compare the two. Mash did wonderfully given the circumstances and truly made it her own. But there was something natural about the way Galahad hefted the impossibly heavy shield up like it weighed nothing. 

“We don’t.” He responded with a smile.

His arm snaked around your waist and pulled you in close as he lifted the shield above the both of you. It took only seconds after that when another crack of thunder boomed closer this time and the sky tore open. The rain came down in torrents, but the shield worked well as a makeshift umbrella. 

“Won’t your arm get tired?”

With Galahad’s hand on your waist, nudging you forward, you continued your trek. He kept you close, beneath the shield to keep you dry. 

“Maybe after a day or so.” He replied.

“Huh.” Was all you managed and he chuckled.

Given his slender, almost lanky, figure, it was hard to imagine him steadily holding a shield for a day straight.

“But then I’d just use the other arm.”

“Wait, so you can just—infinitely hold your shield and alternate arms?”

You sounded a little amazed at the idea. Letting one rest for the day then giving it to the other. Galahad looked amused at your antics.

“Are you planning to test that theory by walking slowly? Or should I carry you as well?” He smirked.

“Maybe.” You joked, looking down at the grass that was soaked already and thankful your boots went to your knees. 

“Oh? Very well, please duck your head though. I would hate if you smacked it against the shield.” 

_Huh?_ “No, Galahad it was a joke—Eek!” 

He knelt and in one swift motion had you sitting on his arm. You instinctively ducked, keeping your head low and wrapping your arm around the servant’s neck. You couldn’t see the smug, pleased smile he had with himself at having you so close. Your arms around his neck and face tucked close to his was a treat in and of itself.

“Galahad, it was a joke! Let me down! I’ll walk faster, I promise. What if you do need to swap arms to hold the shield? God knows we’ve already been out here for a day before the rain started.” Neither of you were sure how long it would be until you reached your destination. And there weren’t any trees or cover for miles, something that didn’t look like it would change soon. 

Galahad clicked his tongue in disapproval at your words. Put you down now that he quite literally had you in his arms? Not a chance.

“Are you insinuating you weigh anything close to what my shield does?” He tilted his head and glanced at you, but kept walking.

“M-Maybe not what the shield does, but I’m not exactly light!” It was hard to pull back and look at him, so you opted to just tuck your face close to his. Which elicited a pleased hum from him.

“You are lighter than air in my arms, My Lady. You would do me a disservice as a Knight if you forced me to put you down, now.” That was a boldfaced lie, but you didn’t need to know that. 

You made a noise of resignation. “Promise me if it becomes too much, you’ll put me down? I swear I won’t be offended.” 

He chuckled, “I promise.”


	10. Like Master Like Servant [Arjuna]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They could easily take his expression for disinterested or even more commonly: a resting-bitch-face. Something you suffered from. Like master, like servant, you supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I recently got a new job and started asap. Things are going to be bumpy and sporadic which means less updates/time to write. Especially since I'll have to move. I managed to get a new apartment but won't be able to move 'til December. So I unfortunately have a lot of back and forth driving until I can. Ripperino. This was done fairly quickly so I'm not too happy with it but eh.

“Arjuna.” You called out.

“Master?” Your berserker returned in kind, head whipping in your direction.

You motioned for him to come over and he set down what he had been examining and floated over to you. He stopped in front of you and hovered in the air, faint traces of curiosity carved on his face. Though for anyone who didn’t know the former God like you did, it was easy to miss. They could easily take his expression for disinterested or even more commonly: a resting-bitch-face. Something you suffered from. Like master, like servant, you supposed.

“Sit in front of me.” 

You tapped your foot on the ground and Arjuna glanced down at it before doing as he was told. Curling his tail around him and into his lap, he plopped himself down without question. A measure of trust you didn’t always have but appreciated from him, now. He was hard pressed to trust anybody else and part of you felt kind of happy about that, odd as it was. You didn’t have as many servants as Ritsuka did, not in a million years. But the few you had were very attached to you and kept themselves distanced from the others to a degree. You wouldn’t say you were happy that they distanced themselves, but there was a measure in knowing your servants only wanted you. You weren’t sure if you could handle it if your servants started asking Ritsuka to take their contract like some of his did with you.

You combed a hand through the bundle of white hair before you, clicking your tongue when it almost snagged on a knot instantly. 

“Master?” He tilted his head back to glance at you.

He heard your small disapproving click and his tail twitched, wanting to please you. You placed your hand on his head, nudging him to look straight again, and he obliged.

“Sorry, ‘Juna. I didn’t realize your hair was so.. knotty. I’m going to brush and braid it for you.”

You picked the brush at your side up, gently taking sections of his hair and setting some aside. You started from the bottom and worked your way up, going as gently as you could. You spent the next hour brushing out the matted mess of hair. It was soft once you could run your hands through it though, and your appreciative hum got another tail twitch. He tried to glance back again to catch the smile on your face, something he loved to see, but you nudged his head straight again. He obliged. 

Opting for a French braid, you wove your fingers through his hair. Tugging strands into the braid as you went, mesmerized by how soft his hair was. You knew what kind of shampoo he used considering half the time he ended up joining you. So how his was so much nicer, you chalked it up to divinity, if only to make yourself feel better. 

You noted when he dozed off by the way his head dipped forward. He would wake up and sit straight for you again, only for it to happen once more. A small smile tugged against your lips as you continued down. Only when you finished and snapped the tie in place did he glance back again. 

“I’m done, thanks for being patient with me. Wanna see?” 

Arjuna floated up as you stood up to stretch your legs. Grabbing a mirror, you nudged him toward the one that hung on your wall. You held up the smaller one and angled it so he could see the back of his head with the mirror on the wall. He gently took the mirror from you and tilted it and his head before he reached back to pull the braid over his shoulder.

“.. Thank you. Will you do it again?” He returned the mirror to you.

“What? Braid your hair?” He nodded.

“It was.. nice.” 

He wasn’t sure what word to use that would accurately describe it. Your fingers through his hair, gently brushing and braiding it, he found it soothing. Lulled him into comfort until he ended up dozing off at your feet. He enjoyed spending that kind of quiet time with you, too. 

“Of course.” You smiled at him and his chest felt warm.


	11. Distraction [Solomon]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me paint your nails.” 
> 
> Solomon blinked and looked down at you, then to his nails.

“Let me paint your nails.” 

Solomon blinked and looked down at you, then to his nails. The color against his nails was by design, magic tattooed permanence. Much like all the symbols etched in black ink across his skin. And had he been human, had he been _Romani,_ he would have missed it. The telltale signs you gave, the subtle way your jaw clenched tight. The way you gripped the nail polish tightly to keep your hands from trembling. Anxious energy came off you in waves and only made him sorely aware of how lacking his connection was with you. How he hadn’t fixed that little enchantment to amplify what he felt so he could readily help you. But thankfully, even with the estranged distance, you still sought him out. 

“Of course.” 

With a small flick of magic, the color against his nails disappeared before you noticed it was there. Instead, he left his nails bare for you to paint to your heart’s content. Your smaller hand found its way to his, slipping into his own, and tugged him in a random direction. Further from where he knew most servants and staff gathered and down several abandoned corridors for the abandoned back rooms. 

He wanted to ask what was wrong, what could make you of all people so anxious. But he didn’t want to further upset you, so his lips remained sealed and he followed your lead. Sitting down in a chair and watching you as you rounded and sat across from him. Your nail polish painting desire had been a spur of the moment. You didn’t have any polish remover nor towels in case things got messy, as painting nails always did. He said nothing though and splayed his hands across the table’s white surface. It was nothing a little magic couldn’t fix, he would take care of it to keep you distracted.

Solomon watched you unscrew the lid and gently take his larger hand in your own smaller one. The delicate way you brushed the black paint across the surface of his nail. A bit of magic that you wouldn’t sense kept the brush from going off the side and staining skin. Each stroke of the brush left no mess on him, but he couldn’t say the same for your own. You didn’t seem to mind that as much. And even if he wanted to, you would notice his magic if it intruded upon your person. He wondered if your sensitivity to magic and mana in general was a curse or a blessing. In some ways he felt relieved that you could shrug off or at least identify most magic. Especially if it tried to harm or manipulate you. On the other hand, it was tedious because he had to be meticulous in the enchantment he placed on you.

“Is.. This might be awful of me to say but..” You started.

He flicked his gold gaze onto you, watching your nose as it tinted red. The small, sharp intake of air as you struggled to pick your words.

“Is it bad I kind of miss humanity being incinerated?” 

He blinked, it was unexpected but his expression gave nothing away when you glanced at him. You nervously chuckled and looked back down to continue and steadily yet slowly paint his nails. You weren’t in any real rush. In fact you had specifically tugged the King of Magecraft off to do this to waste as much time as possible.

“I mean—I don’t wish for the pressure or anxiety of the world being doomed if we failed but.. I miss.. I miss it being just us. Ritsuka and who he summoned, Da Vinci, you, me and Mash.” 

Of course that meant your servants too, but he was still sour with them, as amusing as that was. You wanted to continue, to elaborate more, but the distant trail of voices caused you to shut your mouth. Pursed lips as you focused intently on his nails, much more than before. It told him what you wouldn’t, about why you tugged him here to paint his nails of all things. Whoever it was obviously was someone you wanted to avoid. The warmth in his eyes disappeared the moment he wasn’t looking at you. Peering above your head to see who rounded the corner into the abandoned recreation room. 

_Ah._ Bitter, angry resentment bubbled to the surface the moment he laid eyes on them. The Mage’s Association was back to check up on the masters they felt they had the illusion of control over. It was laughable at best and downright insulting at worst. They knew they couldn’t control you or Ritsuka if they really wanted to. But they played mind games well enough that it gave them the control they so desperately sought. You still suffered from PTSD and nightmares thanks to them. From when they tried to force you and Ritsuka to sever your servant contracts and seal your magic away. He knew it kept you up some nights, even if you never wanted to admit it aloud. 

They froze when they spotted him, there was no mistaking who the King of Magecraft was. After all, he sent several of the last Association members home with no connection to magic anymore. And maybe some remnants of his demon familiars to haunt them for as long as the bit of magic he supplied them with lasted. When they returned, it’d been several months later, and he was sure that they deserved far longer but let it go.

One of them opened their mouth and Solomon’s eyes narrowed. The same symbol that tattooed onto the back of his hand appeared beneath them. Protruding from it, appendages of several eager demon familiars that yanked them down into the abyss they stemmed from. Silencing their cries before it could even leave their lips. With their conversation silenced into the symbols he called his familiars from, you eased up. And when you glanced over your shoulder, the symbols on the floor vanished and Solomon watched the tension leave slowly leave. Your shoulders slumped and the iron grip you had on his hand loosened. 

“I know what you mean,” he spoke and grabbed your attention, bringing it back onto him as he smiled softly at you. “I miss it just being us, too.”

The relief bloomed on your face in the form of a smile that made Solomon’s chest warm, made his heart flutter. He watched as you continued to paint his nails, keeping the minuscule magic to keep the paint in place. Hushed conversation between the two of you and when both hands had perfectly painted nails, he swapped. Took your smaller hand in his and went to work painting yours. When he finished, he took your smaller hand in his and brought it up and kissed across your knuckles.


	12. Sacrifice [Edmond]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There has to be another way.” You begged her for insight.
> 
> “You know there isn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hesitant to upload this because there's not much ship wise but it's character development so there's that. Woo. This is a glimpse into the beginning (E Pluribus Unum).

_“You must either learn to carry the Universe or be crushed by it. You must grow strong enough to love the world, yet empty enough to sit down at the same table with its worst horrors.” — Andrew Boyd_

You sat at the table with your head in your hands, heart hammering heavily in your chest. _There must be another way._ But you ran through all the scenarios, all the options, and there wasn’t. You knew there wasn’t, but you wanted to believe if you continued to sit there, something would come to you. Maybe an epiphany of what could be done instead of what you were afraid you were going to have to do. _I can’t do this._ You breathed shallowly as the anxiety worked its way through your core. Why did Ritsuka leave this to you? Why? Why _why **why?**_

“It looks like you’ve realized the only way to go about this.” 

Scáthach joined you at the table, but you didn’t look up as you threaded your fingers through your hair. Or when you felt the tears as they prickled against your eyes.

“There has to be another way.” You begged her for insight.

“You know there isn’t.”

Your hand came down on the wooden table in a loud _bang a_ s you peered up at the lancer. The other hand still clung tightly in your hair, clutched it, and used the tingle of pain to ground you. Scáthach didn’t flinch, nor did she look too impressed at your outburst or desperate stare. Instead, she reached over to the makeshift chess pieces you had made. It helped you think of your choices of the options you had ahead of you. Maybe it was sick of you to think of everyone like pawns, even more so with your conclusion. But Ritsuka tasked this to you, told you with a tired smile you were better at devising plans than he was. Then he retired for the night and left you to your devices, to your planning, to the terrible, awful conclusion you came to.

“The King is charismatic to a fault, he draws people into his cause, makes people want to fight for it, for him.” Scáthach finished setting your pieces back up and held up the King piece as she spoke before she set it in the back.

“But the King cannot lead the army. He can make an army, but he doesn’t know how to lead one in battle. That is where the general comes in, the most trusted knight.” She lifted another piece, and you watched as she set it down in the row in front of the King.

“Ritsuka is a fine King. He can summon servants like no other master before could. But he doesn’t know how to lead them, to guide them in a successful battle. He is idealistic in his thinking, he will plan to increase the survival chances for everyone overall. But he won’t plan for the success of the goal. His goal is the survival of his Kingdom, so he is less inclined to sacrifice where it’s needed. Which is why he needs a general.” 

She moved pieces forward, sliding the Knight into a new position.

“You make a fine general. You are goal orientated and the realist to the idealist. You, however fortunate or unfortunate, have a strong sense of self-awareness and observation with the will to handle the difficult decisions. Where Ritsuka would falter, unable to handle what’s required of him, you grow. You thrive in conflict, your best growth as a person is done when the weight of others lie on your shoulders.”

“I don’t want that.” You murmured, throat tight.

“What is that saying? Some are born great, some achieve greatness—” she picked up the King and waved it before setting it down and reaching for the Knight, for _you_. “—and some have greatness thrust upon them. Whether they want it or not, they are the only ones capable of it.” 

She stood up, walked around the table and took your hand and placed the knight piece there and folded your fingers around it.

“It is a hard path that nobody envies, but it is your path. Walk it with pride.” 

She let go of your hand and left. Leaving you to your thoughts as you stared down at the piece in your hand. _The King needs a general, huh?_ You clutched the piece and leaned back, pressing an arm over your eyes. You supposed that in order to save the world, one needed to bear its burden and hope. Something that was maybe too much for one person, but if you and Ritsuka were doing this together.. You could be the one to bear the burden, and he could carry its hope.

“Edmond.”

The black electric-like tendrils danced across your skin as your servant emerged from the depth of your shadow. He loomed over you, a silent, suffocating presence that brought some measure of comfort as strange as it was. When you dropped your arm away from your face, his gold gaze met your own in question.

“I think I know the path I need to walk, now.” If he noticed the uncertainty in your voice and eyes, he didn’t mention it. “And if I’m honest, I'm afraid. Afraid of what I'll be forced to do, the decisions I'll have to make. Because it’s not the path I wanted but.. I think it’s the path I need, that the world needs.”

“Is the world worth sacrificing yourself for?” There was no judgement in his tone, no scorn like you thought there might be. 

“The world?” You looked away, down to the chessboard and then to the knight in your hand. “No, maybe not the world. But for pieces in it.” 

He watched as you set the knight piece back onto the board, in front of the other pieces.

“Will you follow me?”

He met your gaze for a second time then closed his eyes and chuckled at the irony. He supposed he could be the Abbé to the world that was your Château d’If. 

“Attendre et espérer.”


	13. Guts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You better come back to your King, mongrel.” His tone was much softer and with it you could see the fear, hesitation and anxiety. 
> 
> You smiled despite yourself, “Sorry King, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 3.

Every bone and nerve in your body ached with intensity. Each breath you took was shallow, afraid to aggravate the broken ribs. There was a ringing from the ear that bled until just recently. And when you turned your head too quickly, the world spun. Despite the pain, you clutched your bandaged shoulder tightly, using it to keep yourself awake. 

“Senpai; he’s not going to make it, is he?” 

Mash’s voice broke the silence that swallowed the cramped shadow border. She withdrew from the battle recently, much as you had earlier. You could see in the way she held herself and gripped her shield that she was one step away from leaving again to stand by Ritsuka’s side. You grit your teeth and dug your fingers into your shoulder, using the surge of pain to motivate yourself. Because you didn’t want to think of this as a suicide mission, another one. You couldn’t send your servants out there again, alone. You refused to watch them die if you could help it. But you couldn’t let Ritsuka die. He was irreplaceable. He could summon another general to his army, but you couldn’t summon another King. 

_Fuck._ With a shuddered breath you steeled your nerves and stood, locking your knees to keep your legs from buckling. Your servants all stood with you, knowing what you were planning. It was something you loved about them, how they all worked together. How they all understood what you were thinking without needing to say anything.

“No.” 

A hand came down on your forearm like a lifeline and you followed it up to Solomon’s terrified expression. To see the King of Magecraft, for all his diluted emotions allowed, with fear so strong on his face. If his hand wasn’t gripping your arm so tightly, would it tremble? 

“No, you can’t do this—you’ll die _._ ” Solomon stood with you, moving both hands to clutch your upper arms.

To see him of all people, the one who struggled to understand human emotion now that he lost it again, afraid, was nerve-wracking. You didn’t want to admit how much it struck a chord in you. How Solomon was a solid, strong, steadfast foundation to you and to see him wracked with fear? It terrified you. This wasn’t the first time you risked your life for Ritsuka’s, but maybe it was the last. Out of all the duties you had, out of all the burdens you bore, this was the most important one. Your life for his. You, the general, had a duty to fall before the King did. With that thought burned into your mind, it reminded you of what was on the line, what was at stake. You dropped your hand from your shoulder, ignoring the dark spot of blood that seeped through the bandage and fabric of your shirt. Ignored the red tint to the bandages that covered your fingers and grabbed Solomon’s wrists. 

“I have to.” Your voice came steadily. 

Was it resignation flowing through your veins? Determination? If you were honest with yourself, the two emotions blended together so seamlessly you didn’t know anymore. Fear and excitement were one of the same, fueled by adrenaline on the field. Negative and positive, two sides of the same coin that melted together. Where did one end and the other begin? When had dying begun to feel like relief? 

“I won’t—you can’t—” Solomon floundered, looking incredibly desperate as he whipped his head in Gilgamesh’s direction, “Talk some sense into her!” He begged.

There’s only a heartbeat of silence, enough for a shallow breath, a twitch of your fingers that hid the tremble.

“Let her go.” Gilgamesh’s voice is quiet, devoid of emotion.

“W—What _?_ ” The King’s command had the opposite effect as Solomon clutched your arms tighter.

Gil turned his head a fraction, slanting cold, red eyes toward the Magecraft King. 

“Do not make me repeat myself.” 

Tone laced with ice, frigid enough that it shocked Solomon into dropping his hands from your arms. He turned to Gilgamesh, a mixture of emotions flickered on his face before an eerie, calm contempt came. 

“She’ll die _,”_ Solomon’s voice is hard, sharp but lacking the ice that Gil’s held, “I should have known you didn’t care.” 

The tension in the room is enough to suffocate and made it harder to breathe than it already was with broken ribs. The King of Heroes narrowed his eyes a fraction before he dragged his gaze away and back to the screen where Ritsuka struggled. One servant left, time wasn’t on his side. Gilgamesh held back a sigh and lifted a hand up briefly to gesture for two servants to grab and hold Solomon.

“A King is the one who makes the greatest sacrifice for the sake of his Kingdom. I do not expect a fool like you to understand.” 

You froze by the door, hand gripping the top frame of it as your heart thumped heavily in your chest. Heat bloomed from the rapid beating and spread out, bringing warmth to your face. You couldn't help the nervous laughter that bubbled past your lips as you glanced back to the King who tilted his head in your direction. You should have expected him to be able to poetically confess while simultaneously insulting someone. 

Red eyes drank in your appearance, the bloody bandages and bruises. Gilgamesh's chest ached desperately. He wanted to go with you. He wanted to believe that this wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

"You better come back to your King, mongrel.” His tone was much softer and with it you could see the fear, hesitation and anxiety. The reluctance to let you go. 

You smiled despite yourself, “Sorry King, I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” 

Edmond pulled the door open, and you looked away, missing the way Gilgamesh swallowed thickly. Missing the way, he clenched his jaw and dug his nails into his arms. Missed the blood he drew when he bit down on his tongue. Missed the way he closed his eyes to keep himself steady and hide the glassy sheen to his eyes. When you leapt out, it felt like he lost you. His lungs burned when he swallowed down the silent scream of your name that begged you to come back.

The servants that held Solomon back released him when a pulse of magic sent them stumbling back. Gilgamesh said nothing when a fist full of gold rings connected with his cheek and snapped his head to the side. He only spat the blood that already gathered in his mouth and looked back at the screen. He deserved much more; he knew it. But you at least deserved someone to watch your sacrifice, and he would take every beating in the world and not flinch to keep his eyes on you. He wouldn’t leave you alone in your last moments. He would watch you in all your breathtaking ferocity like a star exploding.

You stood on the battlefield with hands clenched tight into fists. 

“Galahad, I want you and Edmond to retrieve Ritsuka and bring him back to the shadow border. Use Lord Camelot to protect Edmond while he heals Ritsuka with Attendre, Espérer. Once Ritsuka can safely move, get out. Arjuna and I will distract them.”

Edmond and Galahad schooled their features and tucked away the resentment that boiled within them. They didn’t want to waste time saving Ritsuka; they didn’t want to be at his side. They wanted to be at yours through thick and thin. They wanted to end their adventure the same way it began; at your side. But they wouldn’t question you and they would never disobey. Their loyalty to you outweighed their personal feelings on the matter. 

“I will help the other Master," reluctance hung heavy in his tone, "but I swear I will be back at your side as soon as I can. If I don't make it to you in time, it was a pleasure, my Lady.” _And I'm sorry that I failed you as your shield._ He couldn't bring himself to say it, he loathed to think he wouldn't make it back to you in time. Instead, Galahad dropped to one knee and pressed his palm over his beating heart.

“Fuhaha! Shall we meet again in Château d’If?” Edmond bowed to you, palm pressed to his heart. It was the least he could do when he wanted to do so much more, but couldn’t. He expected nothing less of you, of the master who captured the Avenger's heart and held it steady. Only you would make someone like him, someone with his nature and his class spend their last moments saving someone. His relationship with you was full of ironies and he loved it, like he loved you and every minute he spent at your side, as your servant.

“Of course.” You didn't miss a beat and he looked up at your back that faced him and smiled bitterly. 

Arjuna floated close to your side, his tail wrapped loosely around your arm. A quiet gesture of affection from the former God and you glanced to him and smiled. He didn’t return it, but there was something in his eyes that swam with emotion; a fierce protective look of loyalty. After all, you were his world that he swore to protect.

“I will not let you die, Master.” You did your best to believe him. 

“Let’s go.” They followed you into the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “A King is the one who makes the greatest sacrifice for the sake of his Kingdom. I do not expect a fool like you to understand.” — For those who didn't understand: He is saying that out of everything he could sacrifice, you mean the most. Losing you is making the greatest sacrifice he could ever make as King. 
> 
> He also basically said Solomon was a foolish king in the same breath. lul.


	14. Guts EX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No! _No!”_
> 
> Rage surged through you, painted your vision red, but the dark tendrils Edmond controlled kept you glued to the ground. And you had no mana left to fight them off, so you settled for snarling and clawing at them with your good hand. You wouldn’t watch them walk away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 3.
> 
> Warnings include: Blood, minor descriptions of wounds that may be unpleasant. 
> 
> To say I'm dissatisfied with this chapter is an understatement. I've been waiting for it for so long and yet nothing I wrote was ever good enough and I rewrote this a dozen times. How disappointing.

_CRAA—_

The sickening sound woke him. Plunged hot, molten magma into the depths of his subconscious and shattered a wall that lingered in-between. A barrier that separated who he was and who he became and stirred something he discarded long ago. A foreign feeling he gave up when he ascended to Godhood. An emotion so strong, so raw that it drowned the world out and tunneled his focus. Until all he could think, hear, feel, and breathe was you. 

— _ACK._

You whited out. Hot paint bloomed and blinded you, drowning out every other sense. Bone pressed through flesh and fresh blood dripped from the open wound, dripping down your arm in rivulets. You hadn’t realized you bit the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood. And the tears mixed with blood on your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from your motionless berserker. Had you killed him again? Your vision blurred and you couldn’t focus long enough to see if his chest was moving.

The beast—Enlil, it called itself—lifted you by your mangled forearm. High enough it could see your face without bending so your feet didn’t touch the ground. It added to the pain, to the wound it inflicted as your broken arm bore all your weight. 

“Pitiful,” Enlil wheezed, “what did you hope to accomplish?”

You gazed down to one of the planets Arjuna wielded as weapons that lied near your feet. The dull glow of pink splashed across the ground and flickered like a candle threatening to extinguish. You curled your good hand tightly into a fist and bit back a sob. Bit back the anger and despair that wailed loudly in the back of your head. Why were you so useless? Why was this the extent of what you could do? Would humanity always require you to sacrifice more than you had to give? Would it consistently ask you to sacrifice the servants you called family? You bit your cheek, digging into the wound that was already bleeding until the bitter taste of iron overwhelmed the bitter realization. 

“Well?” 

Impatient for a response, the beast squeezed your mangled arm, and you inhaled sharply at the pain. But the soft, barely audible inhale was enough to snap ice-blue eyes wide open. An urge, an instinct to protect so primal, surged to life and flooded white-hot fury through the berserker’s veins. Contrast to the brown that began coloring his hair, staining every white strand like a wound bleeding through bandages. Ignoring the dried blood that coated the upper part of his face, he dragged his gaze to your hanging figure. Narrowing in on the wound on your arm, the haggard appearance, the blood and tears. A cold, burning look bit into his gaze and he was on his feet in an instant. Silent as the grave he pulled himself from. 

“It matters not, I suppose. Any last words, human?”

You glanced up when the pink planet at your feet flickered into a roar. Catching the murderous look of your berserker, who seethed with a cold, righteous fury. _Last words?_ Hysteria bubbled out and peeled past your lips. Soft chuckles turned into laughter that wracked your frame and jarred your wounded arm that Enlil held you by. 

“Yeah,” You didn’t miss a beat and glanced up at the beast. An arrogant, sadistic smile full of hysteria twisted on your bloody lips. “Think you can dodge?”

“What—”

“Mahāpralaya.” 

The cool voice kindled a fire in you, warming your cold limbs and breathing relief and life back into you. Enlil dropped you instantly to dodge away, but you weren’t letting him go. The moment your feet hit the ground, you dropped to your knees and grabbed onto Enlil’s arm. Mana surged to life through you and into the beast, preventing him from fleeing for a split second. Which was all the furious berserker needed.

Mahāpralaya still struck fear in you. Its radiance was as beautiful as it was overwhelmingly powerful and scorching hot. What the blade didn’t slice, everything around it scorched beneath its heat. And while you came back from one at the berserker’s prime, before he became a grand servant, it didn’t quell the fear. It didn’t keep your hand from trembling. But when Enlil looked down at you, you met his gaze and smiled in the face of his fear. _Good. I’ll escort you back to hell with me if I have to._

“Sorry I’m late, my Lady.” A voice brushed against your ear at the same time a gentle hand wrapped around your waist. Pulling you back enough that the large shield could slam down in between you and the beast.

“But—!” Enlil wouldn’t stay in place!

The impact of Mahāpralaya is enough that Galahad skids back a step and grunts. But it doesn’t prevent the saber from keeping you hugged to his chest and burying his face into your shoulder. One hand firmly around your waist, keeping you pressed to his chest. The other held the shield in front of the two of you. Relief like he never knew washed over him. He made it in time. Though he didn’t doubt for a moment that the berserker wouldn’t hit you, the enraged berserker knew he would make it in time. 

“Have a little more faith. We’re more than just good looking, you know.” The haughty smile graced Galahad’s face, and you never felt more relieved. 

It felt like all of your senses returned to you with them at your side. A breath and weight you didn’t know you held, suddenly eased off your shoulders. Or maybe it was the drain from Arjuna’s Mahāpralaya as it sapped every ounce of mana from you. The loss made your knees weak, but Galahad’s arm around your waist kept you on your feet. He was your legs as much as he was your shield. 

When the radiant light and heat of your berserker’s noble phantasm faded, Galahad hefted the shield from the ground. Swept his arm back to his side and lowered you to the ground gently. You clung to his arm, and he smiled and knelt at your side, appeasing your anxiety. But when the smoke cleared, the smile swept off his face. The black tendrils holding Enlil in place end up destroyed by a surge of magic. The avenger rose from the depths of your shadow in silent support. Focused on the beast’s torso that was mostly blown away by the impact. But it wasn’t enough. _The cost of saving humanity is never just enough._ A strangled cry wanted to tear past your throat. But it died as the beast rapidly regenerated, distancing himself before Arjuna could land another blow onto it. The berserker stood in front of both you and your saber, watching the beast regenerate. 

“I’m disappointed,” Galahad caught the attention of your berserker, who watched as he stood up. “With your new hair color, we’re no longer the boy band of white hair. I was thinking our Lady had some sort of fetish for it.” He pressed a hand to his chin in thought and you choked on a sob turned laugh. 

The cocky smile was back on his face, apparently appeased now that he made you laugh. When you tried to get up, a hand pressed firmly on your shoulder, keeping you in place. Before you could look up at Edmond, Galahad knelt back down in front of you, drawing your attention. Anxiety welled in the pit of your stomach, relieved to see them, but something didn’t seem right. You knew your servants better than you knew yourself, and something rattled in the back of your mind. Screamed and howled in desperation. 

“Leave the rest to us.” His glove disappeared, and he brushed away a few stray tears. A bitter smile painted on his face, which only made you more anxious. 

“What?” He tilted your head up, and you expected his lips against yours, like he loved to do to silence your questions. Instead, they press to your forehead and you’re frozen. Drowning in the realization that this felt like goodbye. 

“No! _No!”_

Rage surged through you, painted your vision red, but the dark tendrils Edmond controlled kept you glued to the ground. And you had no mana left to fight them off, so you settled for snarling and clawing at them with your good hand. You wouldn’t watch them walk away.

“ARJUNA!” You cried out to the berserker. 

To the one who, regardless of the danger, kept you by his side. Why was this any different? You met his gaze and tears spilled down your cheeks and peeled paths through the grime. He took a hesitant step forward and held out his hand. One of the larger planets that he wielded as weapons came forth. Hovering lazily above his hand as he knelt down and pressed it to you. 

“… This will continue to protect you.”

You wanted to toss it aside, to shove it away and demand _command_ him to stay. For all of them to stay and protect you. But guilt washed over you and forced your arm around the pink planet. The warmth of it washed over you even as the sky cracked open and icy rain drizzled down.

“You would go so far—” Enlil wheezed through repairing lungs as the three servants walled you from view. “—to protect humanity?”

“No.” Galahad materialized the glove back on his hand, a dark look on his face. “Not humanity. Her.”

“That worthless—”

Enlil cut off when Arjuna surged forward, fury fueled by adrenaline scorched through the berserkers veins. The despair that ached through the bond he shared with you pressed heavily on his chest. Every wound on your body he would return tenfold, every ache he felt through you he would return thousandfold. He would make the beast suffer judgement at his hand. Edmond moved second, aiding the berserker and slowing Enlil’s steps as he pushed him toward the waiting saber. 

Galahad clutched the shield tight and struck it down into the ground when the beast pushed close enough.

“Lord Camelot.” 

His magic and mana surged forward, rebuilding the round table around them. Piece by piece, faster than the eye could follow. Until the only light that came in was from the large double stone doors behind the saber. 

“You think you can kill me?!” Enlil roared, catching Arjuna and tossing him toward a corner of the room. 

The berserker hit the wall with such force that the walls of Camelot shook and Edmond disappeared. Avoiding an attack at him to aid the berserker as he fell. Galahad stood steady like a stone statue. A sadistic smile full of arrogance twisted on his lips as he watched the beast charge toward him.

“Maybe not, but I _know_ I can keep you here.”

Lord Camelot would stand so long as his will never wavered, and the saber could swear an oath that it never would. They might not kill it, but Galahad knew he could keep it trapped here even if he died. Camelot would stay standing, an unbreakable fortress.

“I am my Lady’s shield,” the stone doors behind Galahad groaned as they moved, “and Camelot will be your tomb.”

The doors swung shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone leaving comments: Thank you so much. I leave them in my email so that I can read them and cheer myself up. They mean more than I can express and yes, I keep them all. Even yours. ♥


	15. Dead End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know you can hear me! There’s only one person who can save them and it’s you, so please.” You bowed your head, feeling the tears start fresh, “Please, I’ll give you anything. I’ll give you my life for theirs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 3/3. [When God is gone and the Devil takes hold, who will have mercy on your soul?](https://youtu.be/yWabGQBnzKo)

The doors swung shut. 

You screamed. 

The tendrils Edmond controlled let go, and you scrambled to your feet. The rain soaked you to the bone and numbed your limbs. You tripped and stumbled your way until you slammed into the stone doors and pounded on them with both hands. Ignoring the blood, ignoring your injured arm as you screamed and demanded Galahad to open the doors. You wouldn’t let them die alone. You were so sick of letting the ones closest to you die for your sake, for humanity. If they had to die, then you swore you would go with them. Tears mixed with the rain and you wailed and howled out the agony that bloomed in your chest. At the guilt that clawed its way up and into your throat. 

“Galahad! I _command you to open this fucking door!”_

You expected the burn against your hand, something, anything. But only the roar of rain as lightning lit up the darkening sky and thunder rolled across the plains. 

“Galahad!” You screamed and slammed your hands on the door again. 

You ignored the bloody handprints, the way your skin broke open from the frequent way you beat them against the doors. But it didn’t give. You would sooner pound the skin off your bones before they moved. 

“Please, _please_.” You begged. “Edmond! Arjuna! Please.. Any of you.. _Please answer me.”_

It took everything from you. Humanity had done it, finally. It took everything. Your life had turned upside down to save it, and for what? A thanks and the Mage’s Association threatening to take your servants away. Well, they’re gone and now what? Were you supposed to return to a normal life, pretend none of this happened? Pretend you didn’t have PTSD that kept you from sleeping unless your servants lie crowded against you. Silent, protective shields to keep the nightmares at bay. You screamed again, over and over, until your voice was hoarse. Until your throat felt like someone had taken knives and scratched up the back of it. Until the taste of blood felt normal. You did everything for humanity, only for you to end up hating it. Hating and spiting every single one of them because you couldn’t have anything without it being ripped away. 

“If nothing else, please, I command you all to _live_.” 

You pressed your forehead to the doors and cried until your legs gave out. Until the sky turned dark and the only light was from the floating pink planet Arjuna had gifted you. So you sat with it, to your back against the stone doors and your arms wrapped around the pink globe. You cried into it, wailed like the pathetic failure of a master you were. Until the tears stopped and the burning resentment faded and it left you as numb as the rain left your body.

Pressing your cheek to the warmth of the globe, you hugged it like a lifeline because you knew it was. Knew once it disappeared that the worst happened. _That it disappeared._ If servants took everything when they died and returned to the throne, did that mean Arjuna was still alive? You stared at the pink globe and brushed the fingers on your good hand across its surface. If he was still trying, if your beloved berserker was still fighting then what the hell were you doing? You could wallow once the seals and globe he gave you disappeared. But what could you do? 

You stood up and pulled out your survivor’s knife, moving away from the door as you got to work. Stabbing into the ground and drawing lines from memory, twisting here and there. Inscribing something in between lines until you stood before the altered summoning circle you talked with Solomon and Anderson about. Chaldea’s FATE summoning system was an altered version of the grail, which was an altered version of the original. And the original..

The original stood at your feet, taller and wider than you stood. You were sure you were running out of time, having spent so much of it wallowing in pity. So when the next step required your blood, you didn’t hesitate to twirl the knife in your hand and stab it into your side. Flinching when you pulled it out and dropped it onto the ground. You clamped your bad hand over it and used your good one to paint it into the circle. Until you felt sick and the world spun around you. _Should have thought of how to close that._ You glanced down at the wound as the bleeding slowed. Tempted to shake your head, but you were sure between the pain and blood loss you would black out. 

“With what we’re up against, there’s only one person I know that can help.” 

You murmured as you dropped to your knees at the foot of the summoning circle and pressed your bloody hand into place. The last drops of your mana dumped into the circle while you used your blood to substitute for what you lacked in essence. Blood contained mana, after all.

“You hear me!?” The symbol roared to life. 

Light illuminated down the summoning circle, following your blood as it twisted through each loop until the thing was glowing beneath your hand.

“I know you can hear me! There’s only one person who can save them and it’s you, so please.” You bowed your head, feeling the tears start fresh, “Please, I’ll give you anything. I’ll give you my life for theirs.” 

You were selfish, and you knew it. The chance you could summon them was one in a million, and the off chance that your praying and pleading reached them? You weren’t sure they would want to help you. Someone who had been spitting on saving humanity moments earlier. Someone as broken and hypocritical as you. But you would do whatever they wanted if they came and helped you.

“Please, just let me save the ones I care about!” 

Your vision swam and nausea surged up. Bile raced to your mouth as you twisted away from the circle and vomited off to the side. With the wound you had, even if you summoned them, would you have enough to give? Sweat broke against your brow and you trembled and dry heaved again. Looking down at your hand that propped you up as your vision doubled. The light to your right died and left you in silence. Glancing slowly to the side as despair crept its way up. You failed, you stabbed yourself and poured your blood, sweat and tears into this last ditch effort and _failed._

The pink planet at your side bumped into your face and you glanced at it before your arm buckled beneath your weight, sending you crashing to the ground. _I failed._ The pink globe bumped against you again and you lifted your arm up, tugging it closer to hug with what strength you had left. A violent, cold shutter shaking you as your eyes burned, but you were on death’s door. Tears wouldn’t come, but dark dots encroached on your vision. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed you guys._

“You called, master?”

You glanced to the sound as your vision failed, and with the last strength left in you. Fueled by the desire to save your servants; you lifted your mangled arm and pointed toward Camelot’s imposing structure. 

“... Save—” 

Death was cold but warmly welcomed you home a second time.


	16. Begin Again [Karna]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How many have to die for your righteous cause? For your misguided martyrdom?” 
> 
> Your scream muffled against his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **"Let me not die while I am still alive."**   
> 

You stood in the dark and inhaled sharply as your senses returned to you. The sensation of something warm and wet ebbed over your toes. Filling until it lapped at your ankles and you glanced down. The red substance coated your hands and dripped off the tips of your fingers into the pool of blood below. Something coiled around your ankle and yanked you down, bringing you harshly to your knees. The red splashed across the white dress and drops flicked across your face. You scrambled to your feet and tried to run, but the weight on your ankle anchored you to your spot. When you glanced back, ready to kick what caught you, the horror-struck you still. 

“You think you can escape?” His free hand reached up, grabbing a fistful of your bloody dress and tugging it toward him. A wicked smile brimmed with blood between his teeth. “This is your doing, there is no escape.” 

Another hand on your other leg and you didn’t want to look, but something grabbed your neck and forced you down. To Galahad’s lifeless, cold eyes as he stared up at you. 

“My Lady.. I sacrificed myself for you, was it not enough?” 

Something sharp pierced your side and you choked on a scream, a hand clamping over your mouth. 

“Shh.” They held you by the back of your neck and turned you to face them. 

Your gaze met gold with rims of red as black bled into his sclera. Before you saw the familiar, mad smile and the index finger pressed to it to shush you. 

“Who’s next, Master?”

Edmond turned your head to the thousands of faceless people that stood with their heads hung heavy. He pressed something into your hand and you looked down to find your survivor’s knife. The faceless mob moved forward and tripped over your servants as they reached out to you. Demanding you to die in their place. Why did your sacrifices mean their lives? Why them? Why not _you?_

“How many have to die for your righteous cause? For your misguided martyrdom?” 

Your scream muffled against his hand. 

You woke to blinding white and if not for the pain it burned into your retinas. Pounded a path to your temples and you would have thought you were dead, but heaven wasn’t the where you belonged. 

_For your misguided martyrdom._

The blood still felt heavy on your hands and you wanted to vomit. Yanking both hands to your face, but only one responded to yank at the mask on your face. To the breathing tube that fed its way into your lungs as you ripped it out. Gagged and coughed, turning on your side to retch on the bed rather than down your chin. Before you could vomit a bucket shoved its way into your face and you emptied the contents of your stomach into it. Nothing more than saliva and air, but each retch made your stomach heave, and you gagged and sputtered up spit and stomach acid. It boiled its way up your throat. When you finally finished the same hand that held the bucket, pulled it away and traded it for a cup of water. You took the cup with one hand and stared down into it and then finally up to the person in the room with you. 

“Master.” Karna greeted.

You felt dizzy and delusional at the servant sitting at your bedside. 

“You.. you’re..” The words tumbled sluggishly off your lips, racing to catch up with the mile-a-minute pace your brain churned at. 

“Karna, lancer. You summoned me—”

“—You _stayed?”_

A thousand questions came, but that was the first one to make it past your lips. You didn’t find it in you to even feel ashamed, only surprised. Why did the Hero of Charity stay? Or perhaps he swapped his contract over to Ritsuka. You felt a jealous, bitter pang and swallowed it down, replaced by guilt. How conceited and shallow were you to feel such things, to think such things in front of one such as him?

“Or, I mean, you’re probably contracted with Ritsuka? If.. we’re..” The words trailed off.

“I called you master, did I not?”

You flinched. 

“That’s.. partially why it’s surprising.”

Silence followed, and you stared at the command seal on your hand before looking over to the other. A hollow, horrific throb ached in your chest as you stared at the cast and the bolts in it. Aligning the bone back into place. 

“You’ll never be able to use magic with that arm again, but there is a good chance you may be able regain regular use of it.”

That news didn’t surprise you. You knew Enlil had done something to the magic circuits in the arm the moment he crushed it.

“What happened to Edmond, Arjuna and Galahad?”

He met your question with silence, and your good hand trembled around the cup. You sipped at it to at least drain some of it, otherwise you would spill it. When you looked up, Karna’s gaze rested on you. Unreadable, but not unkind. It reminded you a lot of Arjuna after he had trusted you. 

“Are they—?” Your voice broke. 

Karna watched you and you watched the life as it left him. The downcast gaze as it shifted off you and to his hands.

“I’m sorry,” your stomach sank, and you wanted to throw up again, “your servant truly intended to seal them off. I could not penetrate the noble phantasm to lend aid.”

You wore grief like a gown, he noted, draped it around your shoulders and the weight pulled you under. The fractures in your face as despair broke through and the wails that left your lips left him speechless. His heart sank to the sounds and defeat hung heavy on his shoulders. You summoned him to help, a dying wish he couldn’t grant despite all his best efforts. What was worse was you expected him to have given up his contract, to leave you alone after all you had done. To think after you lost it all, you expected him to have abandoned you, too. 

But he stayed with you until your howls of pain died into pathetic whimpers. Watched when the pink globe that you protectively clung to when you died, lazily floated to your side. Bumped up against your cheek and listened to you wail all over again when you hugged it close. It was difficult to watch someone drown in the despair that you were. But Karna wasn’t a man of many words, and he hesitated to comfort you. More often than not, he was told his words were cutting. While they were what someone should hear, it was not necessarily what they needed. And he was afraid to say something and send you over the edge you precariously clung to. It was only when you cried yourself to exhaustion and struggled to keep your eyes open did he have the confidence to do something. His hand came to rest over yours and when your tired eyes glanced at him, he held your gaze. 

“I promise to help you.” 

He wouldn’t let you drown. It was the least he could do for you after he failed your only wish. Your dying wish. And you smiled at him, beautiful and broken, before you succumbed to sleep. The broken smile was an image Karna burned into the back of his eyes. Because he swore to help heal the broken parts of you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why Karna? Because of his god-slaying spear and anti-divine abilities since Enlil was a God.


	17. Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And _you—”_ He flinched and snapped his eyes back to you when you rounded on him, steadier this time. But the blood dripped past your lips and he noted that you still had that habit of biting the inside of your cheek. “—I hate you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
> 1) Karna standing outside the room like a child in trouble makes me laugh.
> 
> 2) A lot of people write and draw Karna as this perpetually confused/naive/childlike character. Which while I do adore, is very far from the truth. His communication skills _suck_ because he's so blunt with a communicate only when required kind of mentality. He is not a naive, ignorant, cute little child. He'd be the first to call you on your bullshit to your face without batting an eye. I'd bet my life on it.
> 
> 3) We're on the broken road to recovery and will resume our regularly scheduled ships after this.

Ritsuka watched you from the safety distance provided. It was only three weeks after the incident, after they rescued you and brought you back to life. He felt guilty over what happened, for how things turned out and the fact you lost your servants. His rescue attempt on you ended up backfiring so spectacularly you not only lost your servants rescuing him back, you died. Again. You always seemed to die protecting him, and it was a thought that made him sick to his stomach.

But he wasn’t sure how to approach you or your new servant, especially your new servant. Karna’s Discernment of the Poor made him nervous. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the scathing comments that he was sure the lancer could spit at him. It was hard enough to hear in passing that the two of you already butt heads once over it. It ended poorly as far as he knew, with Karna being kicked out of your room when you broke down. The image of the lancer standing solemnly outside your medical room came to mind, looking as guilty as Ritsuka felt. It was a full day before he could go back in, and even then someone had to stay for the first few hours. Just in case, Karna opened his mouth and said something to upset you once again.

Past that, it seemed the lancer genuinely cared if Ritsuka’s observation skills weren’t all talk. He was at your beck and call and cast concerned glances your way whenever your shoulders sagged when you spoke. A telltale sign that you were reluctant and exhausted, Ritsuka noted. Over the past week, Chaldea’s only other master sat at a distance and watched you. This let him observe several things.

One, Karna watched you like a hawk. The moment someone’s eyes, even his own, lingered on you too long the lancer sensed it. His head would snap up and those bicolored eyes would glance around until he found the source. He methodically assessed if it was a threat before he pulled his attention back to you. Two, the extent of your injuries went beyond what Ritsuka heard in the initial report. He was so relieved to hear that you were alive, the rest of it slipped out of his mind. 

From what he heard, you lost all ability to manipulate magic in your non-dominant hand. At first they weren’t sure you would even regain use of it for regular tasks. But with extensive physical therapy, they declared you could recover full use of it. The worst of it was that you lost enough blood that you acquired brain damage. From what Ritsuka could swindle out of Nightingale, it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but any brain injury was serious. You suffered from headaches and lost most of your sense of smell. Nightingale also offhandedly mentioned something about insomnia, but neither he nor the nurse could conclude if it was from the injury or not. As you suffered from insomnia long before, but there was the chance this only made it worse. Along with the trauma. Your trauma was severe enough he didn’t want to read the full report, shamed as he was. You also had some mobility and coordination issues. Physical therapy addressed it, though, as you worked to get the use of your arm back. But it was difficult to hear about it and how hard the lessons were. Not just physically, but emotionally. Things you could do without thinking now took a concentrated effort, and you already had a breakdown over it in the last session. 

To his dismay, Nightingale told him you probably suffered from more. Despite her best efforts, you were reluctant to divulge in anything else at the moment. With everything else you were dealing with, she wanted to give you the best treatment but got thrown out by your new servant. The moment you became agitated and showed signs of hysteria at her pressing, the lancer would throw everyone out. Occasionally he would come out later and divulge information he coaxed out of you in private. Ritsuka felt relieved knowing the lancer did his best to support you while he kept everyone in the loop of your condition.

Last but not least, the third thing he noted was just how much stronger you were than he was. He never openly admitted to you—which was another thing that plagued him with guilt—but he was envious of your strength. You jumped into the face of danger with a confidence he could only dream of. Watching you struggle now was enough to bring the sting of tears to his eyes, he couldn’t imagine being in your shoes. What horrified him the most was how close he’d been to that reality. If you hadn’t come back to rescue him and his pathetic rescue attempt to save _you_ , he would be in your situation or worse. He would be dead.

The idea made his heart race, and anxiety ripped through him to the point he felt sick. It was why he didn’t approach you after he heard you were okay, though he knew he should have. Mash encouraged him but didn’t press him. Merlin and Solomon dropped hints he played oblivious to. It wasn’t until Gilgamesh literally smacked sense into him and barked out orders to visit you. It brought him to the medical wing, and he inched closer to you each day but couldn’t quite muster up the courage to approach you. To drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. 

So here he was for the fifth day since Gilgamesh smacked sense into him, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Watching and waiting for you to finish your physical therapy. Karna was at your side like a solid pillar of support that Ritsuka wished he could be. _I can be. No, I want to be._ Because the two of you were friends. But when had the distance grown so large? Keeping humanity safe became a full-time job the two of you did in shifts. Before he knew it, it’d been over a year since either of you went on an assignment together. And now it’d been months since he last remembered sitting and having a conversation with you.

“That’s it for today, wonderful job! You’ve made such progress in a week, but I want you to take it easy next week, alright? You’re still suffering from the effects of all that blood loss. I get you’re eager to recover, but if you don’t let yourself rest, you’ll just set yourself back.”

Muffled conversation between you and the Chaldean medical staff member carried quietly through the room. Whatever exchange you had was through hushed whispers as you sagged in place. Exhaustion crept up on you, but sleep refused to keep you.

“Master?” Karna’s voice carried concern and a question all in one, but met with your silence. 

Ritsuka watched as you stood still, noting the flick of Karna’s gaze assessing him then focused back to you. It felt like an eternity and a myriad of expressions later as you weighed your words before finally you spoke. 

“… I think my legs are going to give out.” You mumbled.

Were the situation that caused it not so serious, Ritsuka would have found it funny. But the defeat in your tone reminded him of how prideful you were and how hard it was for you to openly admit things. It could only be worse now, needing help for simple things everyone took for granted. Especially when he could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead told him how hard you pushed yourself. 

Karna didn’t miss a beat and swept you up carefully but casually into his arms. The relief peeled across your face as you dropped your head onto his shoulder, thankful you weren’t about to hit the floor face first. You wanted to sleep, but it’d been over a year since you could sleep soundly without your servants. Something you hadn’t brought up to Karna yet, because how could you? You never admitted it aloud to even your past servants, it was something they just picked up on. When you crawled into bed suddenly all three bodies would be in it pressed against you in some comforting manner.

Arjuna usually found his way on top of you with his tail wrapped around your waist and head on your collar. Galahad typically claimed your left side and encouraged you to use his chest as a pillow while Edmond took up your right side. Edmond was always the last to sleep or the one who didn’t sleep. More often than not he sat up and read a book and kept watch while the rest of you slept. When he slept, you used him as a pillow instead with your head on his chest. Galahad would bury his face into the crook of your neck and curl against your side during those times. 

Now you had an empty bed and a new servant just over three weeks. Part of you considered bringing it up to the sun servant, but pride held your tongue. Not to mention as the Hero of Charity, everything you read on him screamed he would do whatever you asked. Whether it was something he was comfortable with or not. That just added to the reluctance at how uncomfortable the idea was, so you suffered in silence. 

When Karna rounded the corner, Ritsuka half felt the need to flee. But your eyes met his and froze him in place. He could see the different, muted expressions as they filtered across your face. Then, upsettingly, every emotion shuttered away as you subconsciously withdrew to protect yourself. A stab of betrayal pierced his chest before he swatted the feeling away. If there was betrayal it was from him and you had every right to feel the way you did. 

His hands were slick with sweat, and his knees buckled beneath your gaze. He didn’t complain though because it was what he came here to do, anyway. 

“I-I’m sorry!”

He shouted and nearly slammed his forehead against the ground when he brought his head down to bow. Both hands flat on the floor as he fell into a dogeza. 

Karna placed you down on your feet and Ritsuka intended to keep his head down until you told him otherwise. But something made him look up, and instantly he wished he didn’t. Because when he did, the resentment in your eyes made him shudder. Guilt roared to life, and he meekly brought his head back down to the ground with the sting of tears burning against his eyes. He thought he had the courage and strength to do this. But he regretted every decision that led up to this, to the resentment in your expression. Something twisted in his gut and told him no amount of begging or pleading could wipe that away. He heard you inhale to speak and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Your compulsive need to protect him by putting him on a pedestal he didn’t ask for, is what put you in this position. Your silence benefits you both more than your need to lie to keep him ignorant.”

Ritsuka snapped his head up, wide eyed at your servant who spoke so casually as if he commented about the weather. It struck a chord in him, and your cheeks flushed; it hit the nail on the head for you, too. Unlike him though, you didn’t have enough blood in you to have it all rushing to your face like it did. So when you turned on your heel, intent on saying something to your servant, you stopped short when the world kept spinning. Vision doubling and you threatened to fall over. If not for Karna’s hands that shot out to grab you gently by the shoulders, the only thing keeping you steady. You took a long, shuddering breath as tears began anew, and this time your servant let you speak.

“You have five seconds to get away from me.”

It wasn’t what your servant was expecting because he floundered and his brows pinched in concern, looking distressed. He upset you again and scolded himself silently for it. 

“Master—”

 _“—Get away from me!_ You don’t know anything, so you have no right to judge me!” You shrieked and Karna reluctantly let go of your shoulders, disappearing from your sight and giving you the space you demanded. 

Though he was sure your new servant wasn't far, Ritsuka sat up slowly with mixed feelings between horror and concern for you. Watching as your shoulders trembled, and you clenched your hands tight. How one hand responded the way it should, and the other struggled to close into a fist, let alone let the nails bite into your palm. Tears slipped down your cheeks and splattered across the floor, followed by bits of blood. His breath caught in his throat and despite his desire to say something, anything. He felt cowed into silence and glanced away, ashamed.

“And _you_ —” He flinched and snapped his eyes back to you when you rounded on him, steadier this time. But the blood dripped past your lips and he noted that you still had that habit of biting the inside of your cheek. “—I hate you!”

He flinched again and looked down at the ground. He should have expected that. 

“I hate you! I hate what I turned you into! I hate what it cost me!” 

Ritsuka blinked back his own tears and looked back up at you, surprised.

“But I—I hate myself the most! Because Karna’s right and it’s all my fault!” You wailed so loudly and when your legs gave he lunged for you. Catching you carefully before your knees hit the ground, and you ruined everything you worked so hard for in therapy.

He expected you to hit him or push him away, but your hands fisted into the front of his shirt, instead. You clung to him and cried into his chest, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you. Pulling you close and holding you carefully as you cried. 

“I’m sorry.” His tears joined yours, but he cried silently as you wailed loud enough for the two of them. “I’m so sorry.” Because it wasn’t just your fault, he carried as much of the blame as you did. But this time he’d be damned if he let you carry it alone. 


	18. Demanding [Gilgamesh]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Be thankful. It’s not every day one gets pampered by the King.” Despite how condescending it sounded, it lacked the usual bite. Replaced by a gentleness in his tone that made your chest warm. 

Sleep eluded you, or maybe you avoided it was more accurate. Whenever you closed your eyes, you still saw Enlil, still felt the hot flash of pain when they snapped your forearm. Even just thinking about it made your arm, still healing, ache with a dull throb. The lack of sleep made you cranky, you admitted. But it felt like everyone in Chaldea somehow needed you within the last week and you were sick of it. Sick of dealing with their chatter, the noise, their requests, everything. The world needed to just stop for five minutes so you could hear yourself think. But it wouldn’t, it never did, and so you did the next best thing. You hid yourself away in the King’s room. Nobody dared enter without permission. Technically, you weren’t supposed to either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The King had a nice, luxuriously large bed with more pillows in his bedroom than you cared to count. The sheets were silk, and the canopy was a nice touch, even though at first you thought it tacky. You curled yourself up on his bed, tucked behind as many pillows as you could reach and cozy yourself on all sides with. That was how the King found you. Sitting propped up by pillows on all sides and he could just make out the fact your broken arm was pressed to your chest. Your free hand plucked at a string from a pillow close to your face. He eyed you with hands on his hips, looking every bit displeased as he normally was. 

“Mongrel.” He drawled, waiting.

It was a question, statement and a warning all in one. It was impressive how he managed it. But you only glanced at him and tucked yourself further into the pillows, trying to hide yourself.

“M’sorry, King,” you managed, “I’m so tired and nobody will leave me alone.”

He eyed you and the pink globe that lazily orbited above you, those vermillion eyes swimming with thought. That damned pink thing was never out of your sight, not that you let it. He heaved a sigh and wondered if having it around helped or hindered you. 

“Very well. If you are quiet, I will allow it.” He glanced at you and you nodded your head, already lapsing into silence. 

He tugged off his headdress, and the gauntlet and shoes followed after. He moved over to the bed and sat down on it. Scooting back against the pillows and using the mountain of them you had made to prop his elbow on so he could rest his head in his hand. His tablet appeared before him and he went about reading in peace. The two of you lapsed into comfortable silence. He was close enough with his arm on the pillows you could just faintly feel his body heat and it was enough. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you struggled to fight and keep them open. An endeavor you failed at before sleep quickly claimed you.

It was maybe a half hour of sleep at best before you started awake again, heart pounding heavily in your head. Tears burned against your eyes and for a moment you believed you were back there. Pressing your injured arm to your chest even more as you glanced around, wild-eyed. Magic hummed to life in your good arm, ready to lash out protectively. A knee-jerk reaction from the PTSD you felt hard-pressed to admit you had. Until your gaze snapped to the King who tilted his head a fraction and eyed you from his peripheral. 

“Sorry.” You murmured, reigning your magic back as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves.

He sighed, momentarily closing his eyes before he waved the tablet away and turned to you. 

“Let me see.” He held his hand out, expectant. 

You stared at him, confused, and he frowned.

“Your arm, you fool!” He barked, impatient. 

“Oh! Sorry.” 

You hesitantly pulled your arm from your chest, where it ached once it was away from your body heat. Gently pressing your arm to his awaiting hand, already tense. You half expected him to grab your arm and yank you closer or for his hand to close around it too tight. You shut your eyes, bracing for the pain, and it showed. He shot you a displeased look at your closed eyes and tense form, but you missed it. Shoving some pillows aside, he sat closer to you, his hand held your arm delicately. Treating it like it was glass as he examined the still-healing appendage. 

Your arm was mostly one giant blotch of black from a bruise that started at your wrist up to your shoulder where it branched out like a spiderweb and disappeared beneath your shirt. Careful stitches lined part of your arm from where the bone pierced through the skin. He used his free hand to brush his fingertips across your forearm, careful to avoid the stitches. The touch was so light it reminded you of a feather, and you squinted an eye open to see if that’s what it was. Surprised to find it’s not a feather but his fingertips and you blinked, watching as he continued to brush across your arm. The Gate of Babylon opened and a round container dropped by his feet. He let go of your arm momentarily to pick it up and uncap the lid before he held his hand out for your arm again. You handed it over again, less hesitant this time and more curious. 

“Be thankful. It’s not every day one gets pampered by the King.” Despite how condescending it sounded, it lacked the usual bite. Replaced by a gentleness in his tone that made your chest warm. 

He dipped his fingers into the small jar containing some cream and gently rubbed it against your arm. His fingertips resumed the feather-light caress, trailing up and down as he rubbed the cream onto your arm. You scooted closer, untangling yourself from the awkward angle to let your head rest on his shoulder. He said nothing, but eventually his head rested against yours, content with you tucked at his side. When the contents of the small jar was mostly empty, he shoved it aside and examined your arm. Noting from his peripheral the content and slightly dazed look as you drifted in and out of sleep. The pain in your arm mostly subsided from whatever he had rubbed onto it.

“Fool.” He murmured with such affection that your chest felt tight. He shifted his hand up your arm, brushing his finger across your open palm before turning it over, gently taking hold of your fingers. He brought them up and brushed his lips across your fingers, up to your knuckles. When he glanced at you, he caught you staring. He couldn’t help the soft chuckle at how confused and tired you looked, it was cute.

“Gil?” 

He hummed in response and released your hand carefully so he could shift toward you. He took your chin in hand gently and leaned forward, pressing dozens of soft kisses against your lips, then up. On your nose, between your brows before he pressed his forehead to your own. 

“I forbid you from doing anything like that again.”

He couldn’t bear to lose you and deal with that grief. He thought he was, and that he could, but when you leapt out he never regretted something like he regretted letting you go. It took the life from his lungs, stole away every prospect of peace in his head. To be without you felt like he plunged himself into hell. He wouldn’t let you do it again. Never again. His eyes opened and sought your own when you didn’t reply. Instead, he found you gazing down at the gap between the two of you, lashes thick with tears. You shuttered out a hollow, nervous laugh.

“Sorry, but I’m not a King. If I’m not allowed to do my job, then I’m no general, either.” 

Your comparison to people like pawns and pieces on a chessboard made his stomach twist. The only disposable pieces were servants who already lived their lives. But you wouldn’t see reason with that logic, he already tried to bring that up. To you, it was another chance at life for them. You would sooner throw yourself into the fire for their second chance, but what about your own life? What of the fact this was your first and only life? He found himself frustrated and he pulled back to hold your chin. An angry tug of disgust twitched against the corners of his lips as he peered down his nose at you. To think that you were so careless with your life that he treasured more than his own, more than any treasure.

“Then I will make you my Queen and everyone will think twice before sending you.”

His lips pressed against your own, as possessive as he was protective. It drowned out your protest and you melted. Giving in, you lost yourself in it and ignored the way the taste reminded you of the blood that still clung heavy on your hands.


	19. Goodbye [Merlin]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wonder,” Solomon glanced at him, the hard edge to his eye never left before he glanced back toward the sky. “If some things are better left unsaid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will you see them again? Yes. How, when, or why? I do wonder.. Not much Merlin, really. But I'm finding him really difficult to write for some reason.

You blinked. A sharp inhale and your senses flooded you, the throb in your arm and the ache in your chest. The hollow, empty feeling that despite your best efforts, trying to make amends, trying to be a better person; none of it made a difference. Perhaps you were always just a wretched person, destined to play the martyr. But you told yourself you didn’t do it for the glory or for people to know or remember your name. You didn’t turn it into a spectacle for all to see. You only ever put Ritsuka forward while you stood in his shadow. You had a belief, and you literally died for it. But maybe that was why it was so hard, you didn’t always die for it. It was other people dying for it. You were deciding to send them to their death; the blood was on your hands. Their death by your order for Ritsuka’s ignorance.

No, it wasn’t Ritsuka. It was the world, humanity. You gave everything, even your life for it and the only thing you got in return? Being told to do it again and again because it was the right thing to do. Your life didn’t matter when it came to the rest of humanity. You would live and fight for them, but they would never thank you for it. It was a duty that forced on you because nobody else was around. Because you got lucky and lived when the rest of humanity incinerated. You were invaluable yet disposable to it. A sacrificial pawn where you deluded yourself into thinking you were the player. But you were another King, a glorified piece on the chessboard with no power to do anything but keep humanity alive. 

You couldn’t change the past for the better, you couldn’t make a difference in someone’s life even if you could go back in time. Forced to watch horrific events play out to keep the course of history. Even if a singularity brought a better world, you’d have to play the villain and fix history. If two sides decided on peace rather than war like history demanded, you would need to orchestrate a war. 

You laughed, and the tears burned against your eyes until you howled of pain. At the ache in your chest, the bitter resentment that flowed through your veins that even death couldn’t erase. You would do this over and over again because you couldn’t go back to a normal life. It was as Scáthach told you: this was a hard path, but it was your path and nobody else could walk it but you.

“Do you remember when I asked you if the world was worth sacrificing yourself for?” 

Your heart and stomach lurched at the voice. Inhaling sharply when you lifted your head from your hands and spotted Edmond sitting on the bench next to you. Back pressed to the wall as he took a drag from the cigar and leaned his head back to gaze up at the sky. 

“Maybe?” You stared at your servant, confused. 

He exhaled and pulled his hat off his head and pressed it onto your own. Hiding your vulnerability from view, but the scent is so familiar it feels like home that the tears start anew. He chuckled and kept his hand on your head, 

“You told me the world wasn’t, but the people you loved were.”

 _Oh._ That was right, you remembered that conversation and the resolve. The steel you built yourself with back then because you had him, your family. Ritsuka was your closest friend as was Mash, when you talked regularly. Before you withdrew from the world when the bodies began piling up. When you became afraid they would see the blood on your hands that you couldn’t scrub away. 

“Has that changed?” Edmond glanced at you. 

Your head spun at the question. Too many thoughts and emotions warred in your heart. The battle waged on your tongue was a tie because you couldn’t bring yourself to do much else but shake your head. It hadn’t. You fought to keep them safe even when you forgot why.

“Master.”

Something wrapped around your waist and when you looked up to your left at the voice, you cried harder. Arjuna tilted his head, unsure of what to do, but his tail wrapped tighter, comfortingly. He would protect you, he would always protect you.

“My Lady.” 

_No, no, no!_ You shook your head when the shadow fell over you, sobbed when the voice chuckled. Hands pressed over yours that covered your face and tugged them away. You met Galahad’s gaze, the faint crucifix in his eyes that swam with devotion. With love. Just as Edmond’s did, just as Arjuna’s did.

“I will always be the shield at your side.” 

He pressed his lips to your hands, wrapped up so delicately in his. The gesture was so soft, so intimate, and you cried harder. 

“I’m sorry!” You wailed and begged for forgiveness. They shouldn’t have followed you. They should still be here. But the two hushed you, murmurs that they were happy you were safe. That it was all worth it and they didn't blame you. It was their decision to follow you.

Edmond chuckled, a bitter smile on his face as he sighed out the smoke from his cigar and watched the sun disappear behind the clouds.

“Attendre et espérer, ma chérie.”

  
  


Merlin sat beside your bed, staff between his hands with his head bowed. He listened to the sound of your whimpers and soft cries as you slept. Glanced to the pink glow of the globe that drifted down and set itself down beside you. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around it in your sleep and pressed into it as you cried in your sleep. Looking for the comfort of your servants. He smiled softly, bitterly, before he stood and quietly made his way out. When the door shut behind him he leaned up against it and sighed, a heavy ache in his chest. God, how he wished he could do more for you than this. More than dreams that gave you the goodbye you never got. He may not have liked your servants for all the time they hogged, but he never wished them away.

“Are you sure that was a good idea?”

Solomon glanced away from the window, from the moon that flooded the hall and washed over him. Casting a glow of white amplified by the mage’s own white hair. His gold eyes were cold, cutting and calculating. Ever since you returned, he kept a sharp eye on you. Though Merlin felt the same so couldn’t judge the Magecraft King’s protective and possessive nature.

“I’m just giving her the goodbye she never got.” Merlin whispered.

When the silence lapsed they heard you wake, heard the sniffles as they turned to sobs. As you begged them to come back while surely clutching that globe gifted to you. The flower Magus clutched his staff, the ache in his chest at your cries robbed him of any peace. He wanted nothing more to comfort you. He just wanted to give you the small bit of happiness that nobody else could. 

“I wonder,” Solomon glanced at him, the hard edge to his eye never left before he glanced back toward the sky. “If some things are better left unsaid.”


	20. Halfway [Karna]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The frightening nurse said to use the heating pad.” Amusement crossed his face when you sighed dramatically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many different ideas for this story which would take it in vastly different directions. I'm half-tempted to just make another story for those. _Sigh._

Karna held your arm carefully between both his hands. Watching your expressions for any hint that he may have accidentally hurt you. Instead, your eyes fluttered shut and the tension between your brows eased. A small, subtle smile twitched on his lips as he sat with you and continued to hold your arm.

“Master, are you sure this is comfortable?”

You opened an eye and glanced at him before shifting in your seat. Pressing your cheek onto your good arm as you glanced at your bruised one. One giant bruise that crawled up your shoulder and spread out like a spiderweb. The bruise covered the natural color of your skin and if not that, then it was the stitches that wound their way up.

“You don’t have to stay and do this if you don’t want to.” You mumbled, not hiding the dejection in your voice.

If there was anything you learned within the few weeks with your new servant was that he only needed to hear you speak to know how you truly felt. Lying meant nothing in his presence, and neither did beating around the bush. He heard what you wanted and got straight to the point. You struggled to overcome the embarrassment that came with it, but you were slowly getting used to it. There was still tension between the two of you as you adjusted to the fact Karna was an action over words kind of person. In turn, Karna was doing his best to hold his tongue for when he felt you could handle what he had to say. He was confident in your ability to handle the truth of his words, a feat few could do with dignity. But there was a time and place for it, admittedly, and he would learn. Just as you were trying to be more open of your feelings and thoughts with him.

“The frightening nurse said to use the heating pad.” Amusement crossed his face when you sighed dramatically.

“Yes, but the heating pad is either too hot and it hurts or not hot enough and then she gets mad at me for not doing it properly. But when you do it, it’s just right, and she’s happy.”

Alternating between hot and cold packs whenever the pain flared up was what the nurse recommended. It helped with the pain in between doses of pain medication. But the heating pad hurt if you put it up any higher than the lowest setting, which was too cool to be of any benefit. It wasn’t until the other day that you realized your servant, practically the sun incarnate, had nice toasty warm hands. You shoved your aching arm in them and it was perfect. Though you suspected that he could adjust his temperature and did so until the pain ebbed away.

“I see,” he wouldn’t lie that he was happy to be of help, however small, “I am glad to assist, then.”

The two of you lapsed into comfortable silence again. Having Karna as a servant drew many heads in your direction. In fact, the whole Mage’s Association was up in arms about it. They demanded to see you, but Ritsuka shut that down and Solomon backed him. They were continuing to persist though, and it was only a matter of time before they got what they wanted.

You glanced at your servant, who’s eyes focused on your arm. Occasionally he moved his hand to a different spot of your arm to warm that spot. He genuinely cared, and it showed in his everyday actions and words, however scathing those were. But you struggled to understand why he did, there wasn’t any history between the two of you. In fact, you don’t even think he remembered your brief encounter back in the American Singularity.

“Karna?”

“Yes?” He focused his attention on you.

“Do you..” You swallowed, struggling for the words, and Karna patiently waited. He knew how hard it was for you to be vocal about certain things. So he held all the patience in the world for you because you were at least trying. “Do you, uhm, even—I mean—You know you don’t have to stay, right?”

He blinked, and you glanced away, feeling flustered.

“I am happy to stay and help you with the pain.” Didn’t he just say so? He tilted his head at you.

“No, that’s.. not what I mean.” You buried your face into your good arm to hide the flush against your cheeks. The ache that throbbed in your chest at the thought of being alone.

“I do not understand what you mean then, master.” His words prodded you to get you to elaborate.

“I mean, you said you stayed to make it up to me for not being able to give me my dying wish.” It was so surreal sometimes when you thought about how you died. But then it would feel even weirder when you thought about how this was the second time, not the first. “I’m alive, though. And.. I don’t—” you cut off, catching yourself before you lied and tilted your head up to stare at the wall. “You don’t have to stay. You helped, you’re free to leave. What I mean is, I only want you to stay if you want to stay.”

He eyed you carefully, the influx to your tone and, how you caught yourself before you lied. He understood what you meant and felt the intent behind the words.

“I see.”

You wouldn’t look at him and when you heard the chair squeak as his hands left your arm, you squeezed your eyes shut. Your heart ached harder than your arm did. Pressing your head to the table and you brought your arms over to hide from the world. Hide your glassy eyes and the way your nose burned red, ready to cry. Would you always end up alone? Perhaps being a master wasn’t something that suited you, you got your servants killed and the only one you got didn’t want to be around you.

“Master.”

Before you registered what was happening, he swept you up from your seat with a squeak of surprise. The red of your nose blended with the flush that flared to life in your cheeks when you realized Karna was holding you like a blushing bride. There was a small, subtle smile on his face.

“K-Karna?” Your voice wavered.

“Ritsuka told me about your other servant and how he went everywhere with you or brought you with him. I don’t have a tail to do as he did, but if you would let me, I would like to hold you and have you accompany me more often.”

Unabashed by his gestures or his words, he only looked pleased, and it made you fluster more. But you felt a warmth blooming in the ache of your chest, and the upset tears earlier turned to happy ones. Karna could never replace your lost servants, but he wasn’t trying to. He was doing things the best way he knew how, and you would meet him halfway.

“I would like that a lot, actually.”

The smile on the sun servant’s face only grew brighter as he swept you out of the room.


	21. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “… Tell me how you do it.”
> 
> When he glanced up to your face, he watched your eyes narrow in silent question.
> 
> “How do you send your servants away knowing they may not come back?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationships can't heal if resentment still eats away at the foundation, but you will eventually meet in the middle.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but..” Ritsuka trailed off.

You glanced at him in your peripheral from where you stood. A hot flash of resentment surged, and you glanced away and tried to squash down the feeling. Ritsuka was doing his best to mend the broken bridge between the two of you. It wouldn’t be easy, it was something you both understood, but that meant addressing the anger at him. Something you weren’t quite ready to deal with, so you pretended the animosity didn’t exist during the moments he hung out with you.

Today was one of those times. He was hopeful the two of you could return to the field together. With that in mind, he wanted to be a better master and magus and sought both you and Solomon out. Solomon was re-teaching him the basics and bettering his foundation. You on the other hand, even with your handicap, excelled with magic, which meant there wasn’t much for you out of these lessons. Not until Ritsuka caught up, at least, or until Solomon made time to teach you other things. That was when Merlin happily stepped in and offered to teach you swordsmanship. He suggested since you couldn’t use your non-dominant hand for magic, to use a sword. Though he was much more optimistic in his wording. _“You can be the world’s most fearsome master. Slinging spells in one hand and swinging a sword in the other!”_ Or something to that effect.

You glanced down to your sword in hand and then to your arm. Which, compared to three months ago, looked more like an arm and less like a dead appendage that should’ve been amputated.

“Spit it out.” You and Ritsuka both flinched at the blunt edge to your tone.

“Sorry, I just—I wanted to know what they said about your arm.. I know last I asked they said there wasn’t any hope of repairing the circuits, but Solomon was hopeful. Or at least determined to find a way to fix it.”

You swung the sword and rolled your wrist, following the steps that built momentum. Despite Merlin’s promiscuous nature, he was an excellent swordsman and teacher. You supposed he needed to be both if he taught King Arthur. Your sword sliced through the air with the force and aggression his question created. When you twisted on your heel to follow up with the finishing form, your arm throbbed and the sword slipped from your grip. It clattered to the ground several yards away from where you stopped. Your good hand clutched your aching arm. You kept your back to Ritsuka and bit back the frustrated tears.

“No. He was hopeful, but there’s nothing he can do.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

He rushed to fetch the sword you dropped, and you angrily rubbed at your eyes and turned to face him. He presented the sword to you and looked guilty for the red that burned against your eyes in unshed tears.

“Look, I know it doesn’t mean much but I am—”

“Shut. Up.”

You snatched the sword from his hands and pointed the blade to his throat. His eyes widened, and the sword nicked his skin when he swallowed thickly. Looking down at the blade before he followed it up to your hard glare.

“Quit apologizing. You’re all talk, but no action. Make it up to me by not needing me next time.”

He glanced away and balled his trembling hands into fists.

“… Tell me how you do it.”

When he glanced up to your face, he watched your eyes narrow in silent question.

“How do you send your servants away knowing they may not come back?”

You blinked and bit back a laugh. A twisted, mocking smile split onto your face as you pressed the blade a fraction closer before flicking it away. A shallow cut slit across his throat, drawing a thin line of blood that his hand instantly covered.

“You act like there’s a fucking _choice,_ Ritsuka! News flash, there isn’t! Look at everything we’ve done—there was never a choice. Either they died or humanity did. Quit acting like we got a choice in any of this! We don’t! We never did!” You snarled and swiped your sword at him.

He backpedaled away to avoid a nasty gash across his chest, but the further he backed away, the more you pressed forward. Swiping and slashing angrily.

“If we had a choice, you think I would have sent them!? You think I would sit on the sidelines while history made the same stupid mistakes?! There’s a thousand things we could have done better as humanity and a thousand things I would have changed but we can’t!”

He frantically dodged your attacks, unable to respond because he feared he would slip up and meet your blade. He wanted to protest that there was always a choice but—

“This timeline would’ve been ruined, and none of us would exist if we’d been given a choice!”

When he spotted an opening, he lifted his hand up and shot a magic bolt that hit the flat of your blade. It hit with enough force it knocked you off balance. He used the moment to run and circle around you, but you already recovered. Pivoting in your spot and swapping the blade into your dominant hand. Ritsuka knew how you fought, saw it often because he watched you fight when he was in Chaldea. Whenever it was your week, he took up the spot and watched you because you were a warrior unlike him. It was almost like watching his favorite superhero on the television. When had he forgotten you weren’t a superhuman hero? He was frozen when you launched yourself at him with vicious intent. When did he forget how frightening you were on the field? To be on the other end of your blade was more terrifying than some singularities he faced. If not most of them.

“Where’s your choice now, Ritsuka?!”

You swung your blade, and he flinched, withdrawing his hand to avoid losing his finger. The momentum of it all is enough to knock him off balance. He fell flat on his ass, one hand behind him, keeping him propped up as his fall kicked dirt into the air. When nothing hit him, he tentatively opened his eyes and lowered his free hand from his face. You stood over him with your blade impaled behind him. If he fell back anymore, he would have used the sharp edge as a backrest. Something that would cleanly cut into his skin and back of his head. He gulped and looked back up at your dark expression.

“The only ones with _choices_ are those who won. We don’t pick our battles, so whether or not we have the advantage, we have no choice but to win. To win means to sacrifice, and if you can’t learn how to sacrifice something, then you aren’t fit to fight for humanity.”

You glared down your nose at him, dominant hand still clutching the hilt of the sword impaled in the ground behind him. You lifted your non-dominant hand up and the pink globe Arjuna gave you that hovered overhead floated down. Hovering just above your outstretched fingertips.

“You can beg and pray all you want, but there are no Kings or Gods who will hear you, Ritsuka. I’ve killed them.”

Ritsuka frowned, the weight of your words hung heavy in the air and on his shoulders. His gaze fell to the scar that showed with the wife-beater you wore. The one that stretched from your right shoulder and disappeared down your chest. The one you died defending him from. The one your soon to be servant gave you. He knew how you howled in the night, how badly you ached for letting your servants die. How much you blamed yourself for your servant’s death. He heard you confess to Karna that sending them felt like you killed them with your own hand. That you killed Arjuna a second time. The first time was hard enough after he became your servant. But you didn’t have a choice.

There was never a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me General, do you regret killing your God?


	22. Mine [Arjuna]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Arjuna—!”

This was a joke of a singularity but as close to a vacation as any of you could get. Especially with the Mage’s Association breathing down Chaldea’s neck to let them see you. They wanted to see if you were fit to continue your service or if they should strip you of magic once and for all. Everyone in Chaldea, staff and servants alike did their best to keep the association away. So this singularity was a blessing for more than one reason. You were stir crazy in Chaldea, and it wasn’t like you could go waltzing around outside in the freezing snow. Even if your servant could keep you warm given the whole son of the sun thing.

Normally when you got injured, they slapped a healing spell or scroll and it instantly fixed things. But, given the fact Enlil destroyed your magic circuits in your non-dominant hand, everyone was skeptical of using magic to heal it. They were afraid of damaging the destroyed circuits more which could cause spreading damage. Which meant you healed the old fashion way, slowly. Stitches, a cast, and a lot of waiting. Too much waiting. It was a little over eight months since the incident and your arm had a large scar that wound up like a snake from your wrist just past your elbow. Most of the bruising finally healed, save for small patches of blue and yellow.

With Merlin’s help and guidance one could almost call you ambidextrous now. You learned to write with your non-dominant hand as exercises before you worked up to sticks and eventually swords. He was a thorough teacher if not a bit too hands on but it left you busy for the eight months of exhausting physical therapy, slow healing, and regular psychotherapy. All to prepare for when you inevitably met with the Mage’s Association but before that, they decided this was the perfect opportunity to get fresh air. To take a much needed vacation and this odd singularity proved perfect, if you could call it one.

You were skeptical to begin with when Ritsuka brought it up, but he wasn’t lying. Nero and Elizabeth Báthory controlled the singularity. They possessed the grail and promised to give it back once their competition was over. Said competition was of course between their acting and singing careers, neither of which were any good. But they decided whoever got the most people to attend their performance would be declared the winner. After that, they would give you the grail. Fortunately, it took place in Fuyuki City before it went up in flames. It was also during some festival you still couldn’t catch the name of. Either way, there were plenty of people for the two girls and their rising claim to fame as they passed out flyers. Per usual, the grail summoned servants but aside from their task of handing out flyers and tickets, it was as much a vacation for them as it was anyone.

That’s how you ended up here, with Karna by your side, dressed in modern clothes. Which, you admitted to yourself, made him look very attractive, much more than usual, anyway. A black duffle coat with a magenta cardigan and striped shirt that exposed the gem on his chest. Not to mention you never realized how long his hair was and he looked really good with it pulled back into a ponytail. Plus, those bangs framed his face so nicely. You had a hard time looking at him without your brain short circuiting, so you stared down at the map of festivities. The pink globe hovered over one shoulder while Karna glanced over your other.

“… I thought I felt something familiar.”

Karna glanced up, then down at you when you froze. _That voice.. It can’t be!_ Hope bloomed in your chest against your better judgement and the map in your hand fluttered to the ground when you turned on your heel. Please, if you could have anything, one thing, just let it be him. Let one of your servants come home to you, if only for a moment.

“Arjuna—!”

The hope in your chest immediately crushed beneath the crippling weight of reality. Your visibly bright expression shattered, and the archer watched your expression as it shuddered back behind several walls. A pang of resentment sitting in his stomach at the sight.

“… I apologize if I did not meet your expectations.” He wasn’t sorry. What was that expression on your face? The hope that his presence alone so cruelly crushed.

“No, it’s not that. I’m sorry. I just.. mistook you for my Arjuna, which you aren’t and that’s not your fault.”

“Your Arjuna?” He tilted his head, curiosity piqued.

"Ah, yeah. Uh..”

“Master,” Karna’s voice cut you off, and Arjuna flicked an annoyed gaze in his half-brother’s direction. Watching as his hand fell on your shoulder in a comforting gesture. Something that took the archer by surprise. “Ritsuka is waiting for you, why don’t you go on ahead? I will speak with Arjuna and then catch up.”

You flicked your gaze to your servant and bit the inside of your cheek before you nodded your head once, albeit reluctantly.

“Yeah.. Okay. Just don’t fight, the both of you.” You glanced from Karna to Arjuna, who frowned.

It figured. Arjuna made a promise to himself the last time he met you back in America that he would do the right thing. He would side with humanity like a hero regardless of who found him first, it was the least he could do. But somehow you summoned Karna as your servant and then told them both not to fight. Something he still longed to do and settle the score but luck was not on his side and he sighed.

“Do not worry, I will be brief.” Karna assured, and you nodded once and turned on your heel and walked in the direction of the beach.

Karna glanced to the pink globe that surprisingly stayed behind, floating by the sun servant’s side. Perhaps it sensed something in Arjuna that reminded it of its owner? Thoughts to ponder some other time as he stood straight and looked to his half-brother.

“I would ask you to accompany me to a spot I can watch over my master while I explain.”

Arjuna scoffed, “She doesn’t take me for the type to need a babysitter.”

Especially not with how he remembered you back in the American singularity. All bared teeth, blood, and grit, ready to go down fighting.

“She doesn't, but I worry your appearance may have made her depressed.”

Was his presence truly so disturbing to you?

“I didn't realize my presence was so unwelcoming.” He didn’t make the greatest impression when he first met you, granted. But did it warrant this kind of reaction?

“You misunderstand,” Karna shook his head. “It is not that she cannot stand you, it is the opposite. You remind her of her former servant.”

“Former servant?” Arjuna blinked.

The grail was usually kind enough that if a master and servant’s bond was deep enough; the servant remembered the master. Exceptions were rare but happened, and sometimes the servant didn’t always remember what the master looked like. But there was always that feeling when they saw the master, even if they didn’t recognize them. The emotion and feelings between them imprinted on the throne, even if the memory of what they looked like, didn’t. But that usually meant the master did something that could upset the psych of the servant if they couldn’t recall their appearance. Arjuna, while he recalled you, felt nothing of a bond like others described.

“I will explain, please follow me.” Karna gave him no room to argue and turned on his heel.

It was a quick hop up a few buildings. The two of them stood atop of a modest sized hotel that overlooked the entire beach. Karna stood on the ledge and zeroed in on your form as you wove your way toward Ritsuka. Who, upon spotting you, brightened and rushed over to usher you to where they set towels and umbrellas up.

“I am not here to watch you as you longingly watch your master.” Arjuna crossed his arms, annoyed at the content way Karna’s body relaxed at the sight of you. He didn’t even want to think about the expression that matched, it made him sick.

“Aa, I will get to the point.” Karna turned to Arjuna, giving him his full attention.

He explained everything, and what the archer heard was enough to shock him into silence. His eyes dragged from his half-brother to the glowing pink orb that hovered over his shoulder.

“Is that?”

“Aa,” Karna held his hand up toward the orb which floated toward his hand and hovered above it. When he moved his hand out, the globe floated with it until his hand was fully outstretched, the pink globe with it. “This is the last connection she has to her former servant. The other you.”

Arjuna stared at the floating pink globe that stayed in the space between the two brothers after Karna dropped his arm back to his side.

“Please do not think ill of my master,” Karna finished up as he gazed back out to the direction you were in. “She misses the one she called Arjuna and seeing you likely took her by surprise.”

“It’s not because of our meeting in America, then?” Arjuna’s voice felt strangely distant as he stared at the pink globe.

Karna glanced toward him and shook his head.

“No.”

“I see.” That was.. that was good, right?

Karna eyed his half brother before he turned toward the beach.

“It was good to see you, Arjuna.” Without letting the archer respond, Karna dropped off the edge of the building and bounded his way back to your side. Leaving the archer to the thoughts and the pink globe that still floated in front of him.

“You should return to your master.” He spoke to the pink globe and watched it float over and hovered above his shoulder. The archer sighed. “I suppose it is up to me to return you, then.”

Reluctant as he was to see the way your expression shuddered shut when you saw him. He would wait until later when he sorted out the information given to him and when you weren’t surrounded by so many nosy servants. His half-brother included.

When the sun began to set, he found you walking along the beach. Your servant, his half-brother, busied himself with helping the other Chaldean master shepherd drunk servants back to the hotel. His steps were silent even against the sand, but you stopped and stared across the sea and he got the impression you were aware of his presence already.

“I was wondering where it went off to,” you spoke aloud and glanced at him.

Arjuna looked at the pink globe that lazily orbited around him.

“Aren’t you afraid that it won’t return to you?” It seemed to be important, and yet you didn’t bother looking for it.

“If it was a gift from any other servant, maybe.” You turned to face him fully and held out your hands. He watched the pink globe as it disappeared in an instant, only to reappear in front of you. Swept up easily in your arms as you pulled it in to hug. “But it is from my Arjuna, so I don’t worry because I know it will come home.”

There you went again, _your_ Arjuna. It was odd to hear and even stranger when he felt a spike of envy and resentment over it. How strange it was to know that some other version of him achieved what he longed for. A relationship so profound that his other self gifted you with a literal piece of him that you clung to. Held close and hugged tight. He watched you squeeze the globe in your arms, as the pink flickered like a candle to a roar of a fire in your grip. Then when you let go, it floated back above you and resumed its orbit around you. The center of its universe.

“You don’t have to hide, you know.”

“I’m sorry?” He smiled politely, intent to take his leave now that he returned the object to its owner.

“You.. you and my Arjuna were once one of the same. I know a lot about you, until.. well, until he started taking in Gods to protect people.” You watched the pleasant yet fake smile on the archer’s face. “You know how masters can see the memories and experiences of their servant in their dreams, right?”

Arjuna’s smile fell, and you knew he understood what you were getting at.

“I know a lot about the resentment.”

His magic flared out, and it took everything he had to rein it back in just as quick. To keep his bow from manifesting and killing you on the spot for knowing what he refused to share and show the world. The things you could tell that would tarnish the image of the heroic Arjuna. His true feelings and self that he did his best to hide. The disgusting, loathsome, envious and cruel parts of him that were willing to kill a master to keep his secret.

“But I love that part of you, too.”

He froze. “What?”

You turned from him and looked back at the setting sun. Felt the water as it tickled against your toes when the water came up.

“Those feelings were once a part of my Arjuna, too. Before he discarded his humanity to help it. Despite how much you hate that part of yourself and want to hide it from the world.. I love it just as much as I loved all the other parts of you.” Because this Arjuna was a part of your Arjuna in some form, and you loved your Arjuna more than life itself.

“You don’t know—”

“—You’re right, I don’t know you.” You interrupted, and he stilled when you looked at him once more. “But I knew a large part of you and I loved you and I still love you all the same.”

His heart beat rapidly and he strained to hear your voice over the sound of it thrumming in his ears. Ignored the sweat on his hands or how his mouth suddenly felt dry. He felt exposed in front of you, every disgusting part of him brought to light. Yet there was only warmth in your words and gaze. You displayed his insecurities openly and loved him for them. He had to shake his head and remind himself you loved your Arjuna, not him.

“… Why?” He didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to deny and some part of him screamed to end your life on the spot to keep his secret. Yet he felt no fear or shame that you knew. Why?

You laughed and faced him again, and when he caught your eyes, he could see the unshed tears. He reminded you of your Arjuna, enough that he made you want to cry. It was disgusting, and he envied it. He was jealous of this other half of him, and it made him sick to his stomach. He wanted you to look at him like that, to want him by your side like you wanted this other version of him. How pitiful he was.

“Because you struggled, you fought for humanity despite those parts of yourself and I can understand those feelings. To be resentful and envious at the same time and wish I was better or just enough. To be the heroic image, the world wants to see and not—” you shuddered and goosebumps ghosted across his skin. Why did you understand him so well? “—not this resentful person drowning in jealousy, who would rather watch the world burn. But despite it, you stepped up and took in the Gods even though it cost you your humanity. You did what they needed, like a real hero.”

His chest ached, and he stepped forward, closer to you. Despite all these things you knew about him, you still considered him the hero?

“And between you and me? I love all my servants,” he watched the soft smile on your face as you looked down and rocked on your heel, clasping your hands behind your back. “But I loved my Arjuna the most.”

And then you looked up and smiled bitterly at him, with tears too big for your eyes so they dripped down your cheeks. Painfully beautiful and breathtaking all at once, and he longed for you. Overcome with a sickening jealousy at this other part of him because you were so close to them. You loved them wholeheartedly, flaws and all, and it made Arjuna so fucking jealous. He hated this other part of him. Why couldn’t it be him? Why did he have to raise his bow against you back in America? Could you have loved him like you did his other self? He balled his hands into fists and bit his tongue. How low did he have to sink to be jealous of himself? It was laughable. He was a pitiful fool, and he knew it. Yet despite it all, despite the growing resentment at himself. He wanted to give in to the envious things he felt, to get down on one knee and ask you to summon him to your side. That if you went back to Chaldea and called for him he would come. But pride kept his mouth shut and left him staring at you as you wiped away the tears on your face. He couldn’t even voice words of comfort, less the scathing things he felt he took out on you.

“I’m sorry, I’ve talked too much and probably made you uncomfortable,” _Nonono,_ don’t leave him after telling him all of this! Don’t abandon him when you had everything he wanted! “I’ll be going now, you’re welcome to join us tomorrow. I promise your secret is safe with me.”

He didn’t care about his secret, just don’t go, give him time to word what he wanted to say. But you did, and pride kept him glued to his spot as he watched your figure retreat into the distance. The pink globe that orbited above you remained rooted across from him, where you just stood.

“Your owner is leaving, I will not return you a second time.” That stupid globe belonged to the him, the better him.

Instead, it floated over to him, and he instinctively held his hand out. Expecting it to float away just out of reach like it did before. This time his fingers brushed up against the surface and the moment they did the entire world shut out. The setting sun and sky—the sand beneath his feet all disappeared, swallowed by darkness, and he froze. Rooted to his spot by an invisible force and panic surged through his system. He called for his bow, but it refused to manifest in this space, leaving him empty-handed and in the suffocating dark.

_What?_

He bared his teeth, willing confidence and strength when he felt neither and struggled to call mana forth so he could fight. But he only felt horror when a pair of ice blue eyes larger than his body opened up only feet from him. Slowly they rose and even with the world blotted out by this darkness, he could make out the silhouette. Watched it grow larger, taller, until it stood to its full height. The icy blue of its eyes matched the front of the horns protruding from its head. Their form lit up by several glowing globes similar to the pink one you carried. Much larger, but still small compared to the menacing silhouette as they trailed up and illuminated it as they went. His breath caught in his throat. To see the long white hair, the horns on their head and blue eyes, but there was no doubt about it. It was him. A giant, no, a God in all its might staring down at him.

 _“… Even if it’s you,”_ it sounded just like him and Arjuna couldn’t bring himself to speak. The words of his other self, this god reverberated through him. It shook his core but he couldn’t move. _“… Those who threaten my master are inherently evil and will be judged.”_

Threaten his master? When had he—oh, this was _your_ Arjuna. This terrifying entity that struck fear into him with their presence alone. This was the Arjuna you loved wholeheartedly who still fought for you even if he wasn’t there. It made the archer angry but fearful all the same. Yes, he considered killing you but he didn’t, he wouldn’t! Arjuna watched as this God lifted his hand and the planets floated around him, holding him in place, but that was something he realized too late.

_“Mahāpralaya.”_

The sword came down with terrifying force, and Arjuna squeezed his eyes shut. Grit his teeth and cursed himself, cursed the jealous and angry parts of him because it was what got him here. For the thoughts of raising a hand against you, for the surge of mana he displayed and the brief thought of ending your life for knowing his secret. His pitiful secret. But the blow never came and in an instant, the rush of sea air hit him in the face. The spray of water and he flinched from it, opening his eyes as beads of sweat rolled down his temple. He glanced around frantically, the sun set, and he stood alone on the beach. That damned pink globe floated in front of him, and he snapped his gaze from his surroundings back to it.

“Even now you still protect her,” he chuckled.

The rapid beating of his heart and blood roared in his ears from fear. How terrifyingly powerful that version of him was. How terrifying it was that you killed him, that you took that noble phantasm head on and came back alive. It was no wonder that the former God came to you when you summoned a servant. Who else could he serve but you? Arjuna pressed a hand to his face to hide it as he laughed. His hands trembled, and he watched from between his fingers as the pink globe disappeared. Likely back to your side. There was no other place for a being such as that to be anywhere else, and that made Arjuna jealous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made you look.


	23. Summons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not that it’s absurd, they made valid points loathe as I am to admit it, but,” you bit your cheek, “Is it odd that this feels like I’m betraying them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I ever tell any of you that this fic only has one destination? Forward. What happens as we go forward? Only God knows because I sure don't. Everything is on a whim. Arjuna take the wheel. Also the BOND system is something I fleshed out to fit the story. If you're interested in it let me know and I can elaborate.

The Mage’s Association was making things up at this point. They claimed you needed two servants now to continue your service in Chaldea or they would forcibly retire you. Forcibly retire brought a flash of anxiety strong enough your hands shook and they took delight in it when they told you, you were sure of it. Normally you would’ve argued it, scowled and sneered at their inane conditions that made no sense. You had Edmond as your only servant until Arjuna Alter came along, so what the hell was this? Not that you voiced it, your tongue tied up and you couldn’t quit shaking long enough for the roar of anger to ignite in your veins.

“You don’t have to, you know,” Ritsuka sat with you inside the summoning room, “we can fight this absurd condition if you’re uncomfortable with it.”

You resisted the urge to sigh.

“It’s not that it’s absurd, they made valid points loathe as I am to admit it, but,” you bit your cheek, “Is it odd that this feels like I’m betraying them?” Your voice cracked.

Ritsuka frowned and placed a hand on your shoulder in comfort. He looked ready to say something, but paused when you took a shuddering breath and continued.

“It’s stupid, but I’ve always hoped that they would appear one day. That I would feel them again,” you brought your hand to your chest, and it took Ritsuka a moment before the horror set in.

The bond between master and servant. How could he forget such a thing? Maybe because he had so many that they dulled their respective bonds for him unless he was with them. But did you feel the moment you lost them? Like the connection severed?

“Does.. Is it gone? The bond, I mean.” He struggled for the words.

You glanced at him, but rather than cower beneath your gaze, he met it with sympathy. You didn’t want him to cower, but you struggled to lighten your expression these days, maybe he finally got used to your expression. Learned that your resting bitch face syndrome didn’t mean you were angry with him. A year since the incident and the two of you made strides in repairing your friendship. You didn’t voice it aloud, maybe one day you would, but you appreciated the time and effort Ritsuka put into it. He was too much of a sap most of the time, but you guessed that had its perks.

“I wouldn’t say it’s gone.. but it’s empty. Like rather than when you described dismissing a servant, you miss them, but the bond heals like any open wound would. This is.. there is no wound, but it felt like someone carved it out and left a hole in its place. Nothing fills it, but I know.. I can feel it affecting me at times.”

“Affecting you? How?” He could take a guess.

“It’s so.. vast, like a chasm or an abyss in my chest that some days it’s hard to feel anything but it. I should be happy or sad but there’s just.. this emptiness and when I think about it, it feels like it’s gotten larger since then. Some days I wonder if it’ll get so large it’ll just swallow me whole or maybe I’ll just.. fall in.”

He guessed right, then. You may be a hard woman to make happy, but he always felt that it ran deeper. The way he watched you silently struggle with yourself, how easy it was for you to fall into this indifference. He never knew why but he noticed it, assumed it was trauma, but maybe there was more to it. The FATE and BOND system weren’t perfect, and Ritsuka knew there were glaring flaws in the BOND system as it was. Hence why the caster’s all vied for your attention constantly. What lasting effects did that system have when the servant was gone? It was something he needed to bring up to Da Vinci and Solomon so they could look into it again.

He glanced up to the pink globe orbiting above you and wondered if that played a part in it, too. He found it hard to admit that Arjuna would have a hand in anything that affected you so negatively. But they already established that the globe was consistently taking mana from you. Small enough you never noticed it until they ran tests, but it was consistently around the clock taking from you. Da Vinci theorized it was your own mana keeping the globe anchored to you at this point, and not because Arjuna was alive. That information broke you again, but the pieces of yourself you picked up never fit the same again. You were different, and Ritsuka didn’t blame you. How did one recover, knowing the single and only hope to a servant was gone completely? He didn’t think he would be the same, either. So he took your changes in stride and did his best to support you.

“Arjuna, the archer, said that if you called for him, he would come to your summons.” He switched the topic easily enough.

“Mm, yeah.” He made a display of it, too. Got down on one knee and pledged that he would come to your aid, you only needed to call for him. Which surprised you because that meant he would work with his rival. “I feel bad making him work with Karna but.. I was thinking of summoning him today.”

You sighed and stood up, stretching your arms over your head before you moved to the Dias.

“Let’s get this over with before I guilt myself into backing out, again.”

Ritsuka nodded once and stood up and left the chamber, leaning against the wall outside as he waited. He could stay in there for silent support, but he wanted to give you privacy to decide whether or not to go through with it. Without judging eyes, even if he wouldn’t judge you. He knew what eyes on the back of his head, waiting, felt like.

You slit your palm and squeezed the blood onto the machine and stepped back. The system roared to life, using your blood and mana to fuel it as you silently requested for the archer to heed your call. For a moment, as you bandaged your hand, you feared that no servant responded. The entire system seemed to stutter, then shuddered so violently the room vibrated and the FATE system audibly groaned. The vents opened and a blanket of steam kicked out, and then the blinding light so bright hit you instinctively covered your eyes with your arm.

“Hoh, what’s this? Trying to summon another archer instead of me?”

When the light dimmed enough to lower your arm, a lone figure stood in the steam. Your stomach twisted as you stared at the figure and crossed your arms.

“Gil.” You greeted the archer, unimpressed.

“You insult your King, mongrel. Kneel and I may forgive you.” He grinned.


	24. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As you stood in the crowded streets of New York with both servants flanking your sides, staring up at Times Square, you realized something. How small you were, how the crowd of people didn’t know your name, nobody was asking you to save them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Happy New Year ❤️ Attachment has a playlist now!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/128T11xAB7Yv4sXSiIjSd8?si=ADVRcMgQS7i6ONaV29jCXg)  
> 

The bed dipped under your weight and the fluorescent lights bore down on you. The pink glow from the planet above you went unnoticed as you focused your attention elsewhere. The fine strand of silver-grey hair between your index finger and thumb. A tug confirmed that it was still attached to your head with a dull throb. It felt as dry as the rest of your hair felt. No matter how many times you twirled it, it still felt like your hair, still was your hair.

You sighed and let it go, blowing the strand from your face and staring down at your hands. The scars that lined your palms and danced across your arms. The newest addition to it on your non-dominant stood out among the rest. Large enough, it reminded you of the scar that Arjuna gave you across your chest. But there were no follow up fond memories to cover the ugly truth. Where Arjuna traced it with his hands daily like a ritual until you associated it with him, his touch. Your Arjuna. The new scar had no such associations, but the ugly truth that was reality. Enlil took more than just your servants that day, and you loathed to admit it. Curling your hands into fists and sucking in sharply at the ache in your chest, the sting against your eyes. Chest tight and you struggled to breathe at the onslaught of memories. He took your happiness, your freedom, your ability to breathe.

You shuddered and leaned back until you fell onto your back and gazed up at the pink globe floating circles above you. No, he didn’t take it all away. That gave him too much credit. If you thought about it objectively, closing your eyes as you did. It wasn’t Enlil who held the gun to your head and took it all away from you. The gun was handed to you the moment humanity incinerated, and each incident was another bullet you loaded into it. You handed Enlil the gun, and he was the one to pull the trigger.

“Light’s off.”

The room went dark, and you blinked to adjust to the dark. Breathing deeply but Gods, it felt difficult to do so most days. You wanted to remember your servants, the ideals you stood for. But if those ideals—those things you clung to that kept you going weren’t healthy, what did you do? You clung to those ideals; you spat the blood from your mouth and pulled yourself up for them. If you tossed them out then everything you fought for until now, was it all meaningless? Could you really, now after everything, rip the foundation from beneath your feet and start over again?

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a shuddering breath. It sounded stupid, and you knew that the Mage’s Association was waiting for you to break. You knew most of them found you pitiable and foolish. Just let go and start again, it’s so easy. So easy. But is it so easy? Like being told everything you grew up believing was a lie and to accept it easily. What did you fight for now? For humanity? You coughed on a laugh, rolling onto your side. Humanity could incinerate this time around—

“Master.” A knock at the door, a sharp rap once.

You held your breath and squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to deal with them right now. You didn’t have the energy; you were too tired. You wanted to drown in the misery as you sorted yourself out.

“Oi. Mongrel!” The door slammed open, and you shot upright.

“What the hell?” You scowled at the King who waltzed in.

“Get up and get dressed, we're going out.” The archer crossed his arms over his chest.

You glanced from him back to Karna, who still stood outside the door, a small frown on his face as he eyed the King. He met your gaze, and the frown melted into a small smile and your chest squeezed.

“Going out where?” You drawled both tone and gaze unamused as you looked back to Gilgamesh.

His lips twisted down in disgust.

“As if I need to tell you anything. Now hurry up or we leave with you as.. filthy as you are.” He almost wanted to add regrettably but held his tongue. He knew that the Sun servant behind him wouldn’t let that go.

You opened your mouth to protest, but snapped it shut and glanced away. Frustration boiling in your veins as you dragged both hands down your face. Gods, he was such a pain in the ass. If you could willingly void the contract between the two of you, you would. But the stupid asshole somehow held command seals within his Gates and gave you some when you tried to use them up. That same arrogant smile on his face that told you to keep trying. It was a fun game for him.

“Fine. Get out.”

The King’s eye twitched, torn between winning the battle but listening to your demands to leave. Half-tempted to stand there just to piss you off before he decided against it. You were a stubborn one and if you agreed easily, he would let this slight go, for now. With a displeased click of this tongue he turned on his heel and marched out with the same self-importance he came in with.

Karna watched the King go before his eyes were back on you.

“We’ll be waiting near the entrance, Master.” He said.

Once you gave a stiff nod, he turned and left, leaving you with the dread and anxiety mounting in your stomach. You felt sick, wanted to curl up and hide, wallow in your pathetic misery. But the King was one who kept his word and he would drag you out looking like the mess you felt. That would be even more embarrassing, so you shook the regret for agreeing off your shoulders and got up. You needed to shower and find something suitable to wear.. wherever they took you. Perhaps you should have asked what to wear, at least that would’ve given you an idea of where you were going.

Ultimately, after the shower, you opted for something casual and comfortable. Jeans and a fitting t-shirt with a nice overcoat to make the casual look fancier than it was. Hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat as you meandered down the hall. The shower helped your mood a bit and after examining the grey hair in the mirror; you pulled your hair back, accepting it for what it was. It wasn’t like plucking or hiding it would change anything. With the dozens of scars lining your body, it felt stupid to hide the grey hair you got from stress.

When you met with the two, they wore their modern attire. Karna sporting the same outfit he wore at the beach with his hair pulled back and thankfully, Gil wasn’t wearing those god awful snakeskin pants. Rather, he wore black dress slacks and a white button up with the first and last few buttons left undone. He also wore a black jacket, but it felt out of place with the rest of the attire in your opinion. But you wisely kept your mouth shut. You weren’t a fashion expert, and you didn’t want to hear Gil claim that he was, either. At least his hair wasn’t slicked back like he wore normally. He was much more tolerable when he was easy on the eyes, and the slicked back hairstyle made it difficult some days.

“I know you said.. out, but where exactly out?” You asked as you approached.

The two servants swiveled their heads to you. A small smile on Karna’s face and a once over from the King who didn’t look like he disapproved. Small victories, you supposed.

“Out.” Gil helpfully clarified and turned on his heel.

You half expected them to walk you to the command room and stuff you into a coffin. For whatever weird singularity they caught wind of to have an outing. So when Karna continued to usher you past the command room and toward Chaldea’s exit, you almost rooted your feet to the ground.

“Did we get permission to leave?” The Mage’s Association kept such close tabs on Chaldea that almost every excursion outside and into the world needed approval. Further suffocating you inside this place, which you couldn’t recall when it started feeling like a prison. It just was.

Gilgamesh scoffed at your question, lifting one hand and dismissively waved off your question from over his shoulder.

“Since when does the King need to run anything by them?”

 _Since you summoned his ass_ sat on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it down. Karna’s hand holding yours with the other pressed gently to the small of your back as he ushered you forward. Striking you as if he was helping an old lady across the street, and you recoiled from the gentle gesture. Surprising the both of you as he looked at you and smiled apologetically and you glanced away, embarrassed. That grey strand must have gotten to you.

“Right, but they also left with all the helicopters and any other method of leaving, unless you plan to hang out with the penguin.” You drawled out, at least keeping pace so Karna didn’t have to fret.

“Fool.” Gil bit, opening the door and pushing past it. Leaving Karna to hold it open for you, instead. “Do you forget who you’re talking to? I own everything, there isn’t a thing that you mongrels have that I don’t.”

As if proving his point with his arrogant smile when he turned to you and Vimana sat behind him. The Noble Phantasm sat inches above the snow, hovering silently, and awaited the three of you. Gilgamesh must have expected another reaction from you, because his face scrunched up in blatant disapproval.

“Sorry, sorry.” You lifted your hands up in defense, knowing what was on his mind. “It’s just.. unless we’re flying really slowly or there’s something around this that I can’t see.. it’s about to be a really cold flight.” And you preferred not to freeze your limbs off.

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes and turned back to Vimana and boarded onto it. Steps unfolding the moment he got close and disappearing when he sat on his throne. Leaving you and Karna to climb up on it, in which you sent him an annoyed look. When the two of you sat near the throne, Vimana lifted and took off.

Much more than just keeping the wind away, it was like Vimana had its own gravitational pull. Because no matter where you stood, how fast Vimana went or which way it zigzagged on the drop of a dime, you felt none of it. You watched the world fly by as you looked up and admired the stars. Hushed conversation between you and the two servants as if speaking too loud would break this atypical moment in time. Flying far away from Chaldea and the further you went, the more the anxiety melted away.

Though you pestered Gil and Karna both for more information, only getting ‘out’ again, you didn’t realize they meant it literally. Out with no direction and no plan. There was nothing on the table, no need to think about it too heavily. You said you wanted to see a store? They took you and though you were unsure at first, it was such.. an odd time, you realized it was something you needed.

As you stood in the crowded streets of New York with both servants flanking your sides, staring up at Times Square, you realized something. How small you were, how the crowd of people didn’t know your name, nobody was asking you to save them. Nobody was forcing you to make life-altering decisions or decisions where the fate of the world rested on your shoulders. They made you decide on a place to shop, on clothes to pick and buy, on a place to eat.

You felt _normal_.

“Is this what you wanted?” You asked, staring up at the giant screens. Ignoring the aggravated looks of people having to walk around you.

Gilgamesh glanced at you for a long moment, hands stuffed into his pockets with a few shopping bags hanging from his wrists. He knew what happened to you. His older and supposed _wiser_ self told him the details, and Gil wasn’t sure how he felt about it. On one hand, he understood the decision of his older self, tamed by time and a death too big to bear. On the other, he nearly lost sight of what was important. Of the little things in life, the little pleasures, such as your company. One which the world was stripping away from you bit by bit. He wasn’t stupid, arrogant, sure, but not stupid. The weight you carried, the weight given to you by Ritsuka and the world was too heavy for you to bear alone. But until now, until you broke beneath it, you did just that. You bore the weight of the world and all its mistakes, and he didn’t envy it, but he admired your strength. Few possessed it, even if you lost it.

Karna offered you a sip of his soda and pulled you from your mindless staring at the screen, and you smiled at him and took a sip. Gilgamesh watched the exchange and wondered, when was the last time you felt human? Not a chess piece or tool to be used by the Association. It wasn’t difficult to see that this was the first time in a long time. He clicked his tongue in irritation. This was why you should have called him sooner.

“Let’s go.”

He turned on his heel and walked off, back to the direction of Vimana.

“Huh? Aren’t we going to stay for the ball drop?” You came all this way, what would be the point if you missed it?

“Only fools stay down here for it.” He replied.

You figured he had something in store, so cast Karna a look who was too busy taking in the sights and sipping at his soda to notice. It was almost comical. Did he have no memories of Times Square or anything close to it? Of what a normal life was like.. Your hand instinctively sought his out, hooking your pinky with his. He blinked and looked over at you, but your attention was on Gil, hoping not to lose the obnoxious blond in the crowd. But you felt his reassurance when he squeezed his pinky with yours, a promise to not let go.

Gil brought you back to Vimana, where he took you to watch the ball drop from the air. A perfect view, fit for a King ironically, but you supposed he would expect nothing less for himself.

“Master,” Karna’s voice caught your attention, and you looked back at him. “Do you.. want to return to Chaldea?”

You blinked, and Karna’s brows furrowed while Gilgamesh looked deep in thought. Both their eyes were on you, though.

“What.. What do you mean? We have to.”

Gilgamesh sighed heavily, as if he had to spell it out.

“If you continue to make assumptions that I have to do anything. And by extension you, my ward, then I will oppose it just to defy those assumptions and expectations.” You got the gist of what he meant, flattered he included you into his inner circle, but you still didn’t quite understand the full picture.

“If you would prefer to.. leave Chaldea, permanently. We will.” Karna clarified, giving no more and no less of an explanation. Words that struck you as if someone sucker punched the air out of you.

“What?” That was treason, the Mage’s Association would be on your ass. On theirs, it would be a manhunt. Unchecked magic and a mage out of control? Highest on the list of getting your magic stamped out of existence through your death or through having it sealed.

“It wouldn’t be the first time I defied the order of things for another.” Gilgamesh stated dismissively, and you idly wondered if he meant Hakuno. A former master he only ever mentioned in passing. From the gist of it, he spent their life with them until they passed away. Was he saying he would do the same?

You stood stupefied in silence and turned to the distant crowd of people. To the normal life you escaped to and forgot your problems, if only for the moment.

“You don’t owe them anything.” Gilgamesh added.

Karna walked over to you and gently took both of your hands in his and smiled down at you as you tilted your head up at him. Was he always this tall? Were his hands always larger than yours to hold yours so delicately? You swallowed, mind drawing a blank at his soft smile, reserved for you. 

“Happy New Year, Master.”

You glanced at the ball as it dropped and your stomach sank. The start of a new year, and a new life if you wanted but could you take it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this out on New Years but life got in the way, of course. This is as scatter-brained as myself and how 2020 felt. Your servants are wishing you a happy new year. Keep going strong, they believe in you.


	25. Of Love and Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not going to beat around the bush or lie to you,” you cut her off. Pressing your elbow to the armrest of the bench and rested your chin in your hand, flicking your gaze away. “We both know I was avoiding you and we both know why.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my [tumblr](https://hand-of-judgement.tumblr.com/) / [ twitter](https://twitter.com/iRegretRoulette) for anyone who wants to reach out or keep up to date with fic stuff. I finally know how I want to end this fic, it's taken me some time but we will slowly start to head in that direction. After that, I think I want to try my hand at rewriting this and giving it the love and attention to detail it deserves.

You stared vacantly at the shield in front of you, a dull ache pulsing just below your temple. When you tried to think about it, the ache grew worse and the taste of blood sat on your tongue. There was familiarity in the shield, a comfort you couldn’t find anywhere else no matter where you looked. But just being here, in front of it—it made you feel safe, so much so that your chest ached. Why were you standing here, what brought you to this room specifically? You didn’t remember, couldn’t. Distantly, some voice in the back of your head told you that you were experiencing an episode. Few and far in-between since the incident over a year ago, but brain damage was permanent. So even though you didn’t experience moments or instances like these often, they came and went. Logically, you knew you should turn on your heel and head to the infirmary or even open your mouth to call for one of your servants. But you were glued to the spot with your lips sealed shut.

_“Are you alright, my Lady?”_

Tears stung against your eyes and the dull ache against your temple turned sharp and you flinched, a small cry spilling out as you brought a hand to your temple.

“—alright?” A tentative hand on your shoulder and you jerked, ripping around on your heel and taking several steps back. Startling the person at your side, their wide eyes flicking over your face as they brought the offending hand back to their chest.

“I—I’m sorry! I tried calling you and you didn’t respond—!” Mash tripped over her words and looked ready to cry.

“It’s,” you fumbled for the words, episodes like this felt like your brain was working through sludge and nothing came easy. “It’s okay, it’s my fault for spacing out, did you..”

You trailed off, about to ask if she needed something. But your eyes fell to what you stared at the entire time and your lips pursed.

Galahad’s shield—her shield—sat in front of you, and the sludge you trudged through began to clear. You came in here because soon enough the Mage’s Association was going to be here, a visit you couldn’t put off forever. You needed to train for the field again, but to space out like this, here? It wasn’t a good sign. You resisted the urge to bite the inside of your cheek and sighed heavily, shoulders slumping.

“Sorry, Mash. I spaced out in front of your shield.. I guess I got lost down memory lane. Was I in your way? Did you need your shield?” You tried to smile as you stepped away from the shield. A quiet and desperate longing for it clawing in your chest that you squashed down.

Mash stared at you, her eyes searching your face. Her eyes turned glassy and your stomach churned. You weren’t good at comforting people, if she was about to cry you weren’t sure how comforting you could be. Or if you would even stay here mentally or check out again entirely like moments ago.

“No, it’s okay. I—This actually works out.. I was hoping to talk to you about something but I never found the right time to..”

She nervously tucked her hair from her face, only for it to fall right back there.

“Would you, like to uhm, accompany me?”

Resolve replaced the glassy sheen to her eyes, and you dumbly nodded in return. You weren’t as close to Mash as Ritsuka was, but the three of you went through enough that they still considered you close. After the whole incident though, admittedly you avoided her and you felt guilty for it, especially since she was keenly aware of it. Her presence reminded you of your missing servant and she knew it, so tried to duck out of sight until you could handle it. But were you? Would you ever be?

You followed her as she mumbled about some place you didn’t quite catch, too lost in your own thoughts and simply let her lead the way. You passed several corridors, heading toward one of the lower floors in the center. If you remembered correctly, the room was originally storage but underwent changes when humanity incinerated. It became a makeshift greenhouse of sorts, since it wasn’t like civilization existed for you to get supplies from.

When the door slid open, the humidity that spilled out slapped you in the face. Startling you out of your stupor as you snapped your eyes up to the greenhouse. It was anything but the makeshift thing you remembered it being, with several trees and the skylight that surprisingly existed down on this level. But when you thought about it, all of Chaldea’s rooms circled around the center, so you supposed it made sense.

“Wow, this.. this has changed since I last saw it.” You chuckled to yourself, stepping in and letting the door shut behind you.

Mash nervously shifted in her spot and failed a second time at tucking her hair behind her ear.

“It’s definitely come a long way, especially thanks to some other servants senpai summoned. If it wasn’t for them, I’m not sure we would have grown any of this to keep us alive in such a short time.” She fidgeted as you walked forward, basking in the light from above.

Even as the snowstorm raged above, the light it provided was a welcome relief compared to the fluorescent ones you spent most of your time under. When you hopped from singularity to singularity, you didn’t realize how much you took the open sky for granted.

“What was it you wanted to talk about, anyway?” You turned around and sat down on a bench.

She immediately flushed, put on the spotlight and looked down. Half wanting to fidget and the other half wanted to turn away, but she needed to face you. After all, it was her who asked you to come along, she could at least face you.

“H—How are you doing? I feel like.. it’s been so long since we last really talked.” She went rigid, tentatively glancing your way.

You stared at her, a mix of emotions roaring to life within you, but mostly shame. Enough of it that you averted your gaze and heaved out a heavy sigh that you regretted when it made the woman flinch. You forgot how sensitive she was to the emotions of others.

“It’s.. it’s been difficult. I’m sorry that I avoided you for so long, Mash.” You looked at her and she snapped her head up, eyes wide.

“N-No! I didn’t call you here to call you out on that! You weren’t avoiding me—”

“I’m not going to beat around the bush or lie to you,” you cut her off. Pressing your elbow to the armrest of the bench and rested your chin in your hand, flicking your gaze away. “We both know I was avoiding you and we both know why.”

She fell silent and slumped her shoulders with brows pinched together. The glassy sheen to her eyes was back and her bottom lip worried between her teeth. But you bulldozed on.

“To be frank, some days I wonder if I’ll ever be okay. I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that I won’t be. What we’ve all been through—to call it traumatizing is underwhelming. I won’t be the same, I won’t go back to who I was before but.. I’m trying to find out who I can be now.” You glanced at her and felt your nose burn. “It’s the least I can do, for them. You know?”

You felt guilty, sitting up straight when fat teardrops rolled down Mash’s face. A thousand things sprang to mind that you could say. Some part of you instinctively thought to joke about it and play it all off, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you watched her as she balled her hands up and used one to push up her glasses and wipe away the waterfall with a hiccup.

“H—He was my brother,” your breath caught and your eyes widened. “When you first summoned him, I wasn’t sure what to think. I was afraid he would ask me to give up the shield or tell me how badly I was using it. I had no one to teach me, and his non-alter self simply disappeared after making that deal with me back in Fuyuki City. I didn’t.. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Oh, you forgot such a vital detail and how stupid could you be? Mash and Galahad shared a bond unlike any other, and grew close. She must have taken it just as hard as you did, if not more, and she never said a word to you. Never blamed you, even though it was your fault—even though he died to save you. The tears burned against your eyes and dripped down your cheeks as you stared at her, at a loss for words. What could you say for your selfishness?

“But he accepted me, helped, and taught me how to use my shield. But he—” she hiccuped and looked at you, the flush from crying bright on her face, but she smiled through the tears at you. “But he loved you, he always talked about you and when he did his eyes lit up. It was always ‘my Lady this’ or ‘my Lady that’.”

She smiled at you and laughed gently while fumbling to take her glasses off and use the end of her sleeve to wipe away the tears again.

“That day, when he brought senpai back, I was so sure that this was it, we were all dead. I couldn’t stop shaking and Galahad smiled at me and said that because it was you, everything would work out. That no matter how difficult things got, that you would be the light that guided us through the dark. He asked me,” she cleared her throat and shook her head. “Before he left and returned to you, he asked me to pass on one last message and to only tell you if you were ready.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your hands trembled and curled into your knees as you bit the inside hard enough that metallic taste was back. Along with the memories surfacing of his death, of sending him away. Not that you ever forgot or could. Not that you ever wanted to forget.

Mash balled her hands into fists and strode forward even though her bottom lip trembled. When she stood in front of you, she swept down on one knee and bowed her head. Your lips twitched ready to laugh it off like you felt tempted to, but she didn’t raise her head and your stomach sank.

“M-My Lady,” her voice wavered and sounded three tones deeper as she tried to mimic Galahad’s voice. “No matter what happens, no matter where or when: my loyalty will always lie with you first and foremost.. as will my love.” Mash looked up, her face flushed in both embarrassment and from crying.

“Please smile again, My Lady.”

You stared down at Mash, mouth agape, before your lips twitched and your entire expression fell apart. You slid off the bench and in an instant and threw yourself onto the girl who yelped in surprise as you hugged her tight. She blinked, dumbfounded, before the tears were back for her as she watched you cry into her shirt. Her lips twitched, and she returned the hug and cried with you, for her brother, for you and for everything the two of you had been through.

You didn’t count how long the two of you sat and cried and wailed into the greenhouse for, didn’t care to. You just knew you did until the sharp ache in your chest that felt like it was suffocating you all this time eased away into a dull throb. Like you ripped the awful bandage off the open wound in your chest so that it could finally be treated properly. Now with stitches closing it up, it hurt, but it would heal.

You would heal.

“Mash, I have to ask.” You sat back against the bench, and she sat to your side, holding your hand.

“Did he ask you to get down on one knee and all for that?” You looked over at her, and she looked about as great as you felt. Face red from crying and dried tear marks on her face, with her glasses set aside.

“He did,” she blushed and laughed, “and he was very adamant about it.”

You laughed, and she joined in with you.

“Thank you, Mash.” You felt like you could breathe, like the guilt wouldn’t drown you alive.

She blinked, smiled and squeezed your hand. You looked over at her, surprise coloring your face at the gesture.

“We’ll get through it, you aren’t alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> **comments / keysmash are always appreciated!** ❤️


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